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rhdto hy Sniitli-Currij, BocheiUr, N. 


SARAH E. PHIPPS 


THE OLD HOUSE 
BY THE SEA ^ ^ 



F. TENNYSON NEELY CO. 

NEW YORK CHICAGO LONDON 



/ 

I 


THE library of 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

JUL. 10 1901 

^ Copyright entry 

ic,iqoi 

CLASS ^XXa N». 

COPY B. 



Copyright, igoi. 
by 

F. Tennyson Neely Co. 
in 
the 

United States 
and 

Great Britain. 

All Rights Reserved. 


• • ••• 


• • • • <« * 

• • 4» • 

• • » • « • 


♦ • • f‘ 






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f 


TO THE TRUEST FRIEND MY SORROWING HEART HAS 
EVER KNOWN, WHOSE CLINGING LOVE NEVER FAILED 
ME IN LIFE, AND WAS STILL STRONG AND 
TRUE IN THE SHADOW OF DEATH; 

TO THE TENDER MEMORY OF 

MY DEAR MOTHER 

THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY HER GRIEVING DAUGHTER, 

THE AUTHOR. 


How I miss you, Mother, miss you ; 
None can tell 

But the One who knoweth all things, 
And doeth all things well. 



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CONTENTS 




» 


CHAPTER I. 

The Old House by the Sea 1 

CHAPTER II. 

An Important Communication 13 

CHAPTER III. 

Miriam’s Fortune 17 

CHAPTER IV. 

Miriam’s Early Life 25 

CHAPTER V. 

Attacked by Train Robbers 31 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Capture 42 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Journey 52 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The False Telegram from Aunt Pam 62 

CHAPTER IX. 

Arrival of the Gang 70 

CHAPTER X. 

Hero to the Rescue 78 

CHAPTER XI. 

Trial of the Wreckers '86 

CHAPTER XII. 

Miriam Visits Aunt Pam 96 


IV 


Contents. 


CHAPTER XIII. page 

Detective Severn’s Arrival 104 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Capture of the Criminals 112 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Knitting Lesson 121 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Second Trial of Criminals 129 

CHAPTER XVII. 

News of the Shipwreck 137 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Ralph Relates His Adventure 145 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Visit to West Lawn 151 

CHAPTER XX. 

The Young Clergyman’s Visit 158 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The Engagement 168 

CHAPTER XXII. 

The Wedding Morning 174 

CHAPTER XXIII. 

Home Again 181 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

The Old House by the Sea 187 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Conclusion 194 


PREFACE, 


iThis book was written under severe difficulties, and only 
after many obstacles had been surmounted was its publi- 
cation accomplished. ’ 

Whether the criticising public will judge it kindly, or 
otherwise, remains to be proved. It is a novel, of course, 
with fact and fancy woven in a tissue of happy imagina- 
tion ; but I have tried to so weave it that I hope the reader 
will finish its pages with tenderer thoughts, and higher 
resolves, than before perusing it. 

“1 have cast my bread upon the waters; will it return 
to me after many days?’’ 






The Old House by the Sea 


CHAPTER 1. 

THE OLD HOUSE BY THE SEA. 

The old house by the sea ! I wish you could see it, as 
I did years ago, standing strangely alone and deserted. 
There was an unsolved mystery shrouding it; a rumor of 
some dark crime having been committed there years before 
was the reason given why no one in all the country would 
inhabit the grand old structure. 

Whether true or false it remained an undisputed 
fact that no person had lived there in the memory of the 
oldest inhabitant. 

The old settlers would tell strange tales (with many 
a shake of the head) of a fearful crime connected with it, 
of a terrible curse pronounced upon every one who would 
dare to dwell within its gloomy walls — ^the curse pro- 
nounced by a beautiful fleeing wraith, with red, quivering 
lips and white uplifted hands. A young girl was leaning 
upon the old gray stone wall that formed the boundary 
line between the house, the wide enclosure at its base, and 
the expanse of the sea beyond, with its ever ceaseless song 
and rolling waves. 

Who was she? Whence came she? Why here? ITo 
one seemed to know; and, although the simple people 
wondered, no one asked a question, no one gave her a 
welcome. She seemed as much shunned as the desolate, 
curse blighted house. She was extremely beautiful as she 
stood there with folded arms, the shorty jetty curls shad- 


2 


The Old House by the Sea. 

ing her wide, low brow, and pure, colorless face ; perplex- 
ity .seemed stamped upon her countenance. As you ob- 
served her you felt impressed that in some way this young 
girl was connected with this old house and its history. 

Miriam Percival came into possession of this ill-omened 
property through the death of a relative, an old man whom 
she had never seen, of whose existence she knew little, and 
whose history she knew less, except that he was reputed 
to be wealthy. To him also it had come by right of suc- 
cession, but he had never occupied it, and had seen it only 
once. 

will not deceive you,^^ so the letter ran, which she 
received through the attorney of this relative. “I do not 
leave the old place to you because I either hate or love 
you. You are distant kin of mine, and it falls to you 
naturally, and — ^well, I have no further use for it and, like 
the one before me, I leave it to the next. You will not 
find it much of a haven of rest, if the tales of the pre- 
vious owners are true. Whatever crime or sin our dead 
and gone ancestors committed in that gloomy old castle 
I know not. Whether true or false, it has the name of be- 
ing haunted, and I admit it is not much of a gift to anyone. 
Do as you wish, accept it, or let it go to the dogs, I care 
not.^^ 

This was the strange letter and more than strange dis- 
posal the late owner of the queer old house on the heights 
above made to the young girl standing by the gray stone 
wall with the gathering gloom around her. Looming 
up on the cliff to-night, overlooking the sea, alone and 
amid the black shadows, and the air of unsolved mystery 
brooding over it, the grand old mansion seemed more 
uncanny, more ghoulish than ever. For grand it was, not- 
withstanding its evil reputation; an imposing structure, 
of strange plan and architecture, with curious balconies, 
lofty turrets, hidden nooks and long, dim passages with no 
apparent object or use, but which evidently bore out the 
eccentric whim of its first owner. It had stood thus since 
the earliest remembrance of the inhabitants of the re- 
mote fisher hamlet, and in their turn they had listened to 
the story from the lips of those still older. Built in the 


3 


The Old House by the Sea. 

days when solid stone work was meant to last for ages 
it seemed as likel} to last for generations to come as it 
had in the past. Money had been spent with a lavish hand 
on its outer adornment as well as its inner beautiful ap- 
pointments, and it still stood, a forsaken monument of 
its first owner’s wealth and romantic dreams of a rosy, 
but uncertain future. 

Why so grand a dwelling should have been built for the 
abode of a young and beautiful bride, in this utterly lonely 
and secluded spot, was a mystery. In perfect preservation 
also was the heavy wall on which Miriam leaned, which 
barred out the encroachments of the salt water from the 
one-time lovely rose garden, extending from the base, 
around, by winding paths, to the cliff above. Miriam Per- 
cival had received the letter a few days previous, and 
pondered over it when she had time, for she was a bread 
winner, and at last she resolved to leave her work long 
enough to take a look at her magnificent ghost haunt. 

She wrote the lawyer who had apprised her of the pre- 
cious gift, to give her some information concerning this 
relative — what were his characteristics, and if he (the 
lawyer) knew what was the shadow resting on the place? 
Also, his advice as to what was best to do with the treas- 
ure. She had only a brief period to wait, and the contents 
of the letter were condensed lawyer-like: 

^^Miss Percival: Yours received. First, very eccentric; 
quite wealthy. Second, bachelor — dead. Third, don’t be- 
lieve in ghosts myself. If cannot live in it — sell. If 
cannot sell, let it tumble down, as it will in course of 
time. Very truly yours.” 

She knew precisely as much now as she did before 
she wrote, but she resolved to thoroughly investigate and 
see for herself. Here we find her, an object of curious 
conjecture to the inhabitants, and avoided by all. Inside 
the great house she found immense rooms, long, wide 
halls, with their magnificent staircases and railings, pic- 
ture galleries, rich stained-glass windows, marble and 
mosaic floors, together with the remnants of costly tapestry 


4 


The Old House by the Sea. 

and silken hangings, evidences of the wealth and taste 
of its one-time owner. Scattered through the rooms were 
articles of heavy rosewood furniture, in a more or less 
dilapidated state. Miriam did not believe in ghosts or 
hobgoblins. Her early education had been far too practi- 
cal and sensible for any superstitious fancies, and she 
firmly resolved to investigate the premises herself with such 
vigor as to utterly annihilate this absurd and groundless 
theory of the place being haunted; then, on her return to 
the city, to induce some wealthy person or real-estate 
firm to buy the property. 

She would take almost any price in fact, rather than 
keep it in repair, with the necessary drain upon her 
purse. She had half a mind to stay there that 
night, since the family to whom she had applied for board, 
at the little Swiss inn, seemed so loth to keep her, as 
though fearing some evil might be brought upon them 
and their home by one having such close relationship with 
the evil spirits inhabiting the ill-omened old house. But 
when she had looked the place over and found nothing 
on which she could rest, she abandoned the idea. 

Whatever of furnishings there were, though of the 
finest wood and once of the most gorgeous material, had 
long ago been ruined with dust, mildew and dampness. 
She looked shudderingly at the old Queen Anne bedstead, 
with its rich but faded appointments, whose once rare silken 
curtains hung in rags around it. She touched the lovely 
.silken quilt, with its border of yellow lace, and a cloud 
of dust greeted her nostrils. Though not of a romantic 
turn of mind, yet Miriam would not have been natural had 
she not speculated some over the strangeness of the situ- 
ation and the lives of those who had lived there. W'hy was 
this rich old carven furniture left to utter ruin, after 
being brought at great expense from — where ? Erom what 
loom, or land or country, far across the billowy sea, by the 
loving hands that furnished it, and, then, as though they 
had walked out in the prime of life’s morning one day, in 
the bright sunlight, with a smile or a jest on their lip, 
and never returned, literally abandoning it to the rav- 
ages of time and nature’s accessories to obliterate it from 


The Old House by the Sea. 5 

the face of the earth. And why? What was the cause? 
Ah, who could explain? 

What was this terrible crime or crimes her ancestors 
had committed in the ages past, that had followed this 
old house with a relentless hate and settled, like a leprous 
sore, in the minds of every fisherman, wife and child, in 
the surrounding country ? She resolved to ask the simple, 
honest people with whom she boarded, and to wrest if 
possible this horrible secret from them. She resumed the 
tour of the splendid rooms, wondering if she would unearth 
one of the legendary ghosts, when she came suddenly upon 
some massive locked doors. She stooped and peered into 
one of the keyholes. It was obstructed by some hard sub- 
stance on the other side. She picked at it with her pen- 
knife, but could make no impression. She resolved to 
go through the intersecting halls and locate these rooms 
from the other side, and enter from there. 

She traversed the length of the great hall and found a 
corridor which led to the other side; but she saw only a 
small, narrow landing and a pair of rickety hack stairs, 
and a dark entry at the foot of the landing. There was 
not the slightest indication of any such existing rooms. 
Nothing but smooth, paneled walls before her — and mys- 
tery. The very location of the rooms was lost. Was ever 
a house so strangely built ! Going back to the rooms with 
the locked doors she made another futile effort. 

She knocked on the doors, which gave back a dull, hol- 
low sound, plainly indicating a vacuum. Then she trav- 
ersed the labyrinth of passages once more, arriving again 
at the exact spot, only to be no wiser than before. She 
was positive these rooms had an egress from them some- 
where in that dark passage. As she stood there in per- 
plexity she picked up a small piece of paper lying on the 
floor. 

This cool, practical young woman was not given to 
(dreams of romance, nor shaken by the fancies of others, 
but as she glanced at this scrap of paper it impressed her 
that it was uncommonly clean and new, very unlike the' 
debris lying around, yeilow with age or soiled with dust. 
Looking at it more closely she discovered strange marks 


6 


The Old House by the Sea. 

upon it; neither writing characters nor figures, but a jar- 
gon, as it were, of all three mixed together, and about as 
readable as the hieroglyphics on the tombs of the ancient 
kings. 

As a telegraph operator she knew it was a cipher, and 
anywhere else but in that house she would have pronounced 
it a hidden message for good or evil, to be passed over the 
wire, the receiver knowing its meaning at once. She was 
conversant with all the abbreviations of the system and 
its numerous ciphers, but this was entirely new to her. 
Why should this cipher, this hidden message with its 
strangely interwoven characters, be there, in that desolate, 
lonely, uninhabited house? Who could use it? and what 
was the purpose of its use? She put the slip away very 
carefully in her portemonnaie, determined to learn its true 
meaning. Terminating her investigations for that day, 
and resolving to continue them the next, she closed the 
heavy hall door behind her with a clang and proceeded to 
the little inn. The innkeeper’s wife looked at her very 
earnestly, so Miriam thought, as she waited upon her at the 
table, and finally she ventured the remark : 

^AVe were afraid, my good man and I, that the 
ghouls had carried you off — or, worse yet, had killed yon 
— ^you tarried so late.” 

Miriam looked up and smiled brightly. ^^Well, I am 
very much alive, as you can see by my appetite, and I did 
not succeed in unearthing a ghost either, though I tried 
hard enough to do so, and I never heard a sound but my 
own footsteps.” 

“But you are white as a wraith, child. Didn’t ye get 
skeered at anything?” 

“Nothing whatever, my dear woman.” 

Her hostess looked sorely disappointed that she had not 
elicited anything encouraging to the ghost theory. 

“Well, don’t go there again, child. I can’t a-bear it. 
You are ower young, an don’t know what is good for yer- 
sel or what ye might bring on ye by going into that curse- 
ridden old shell. You are a brave lass, I allow; aye, 
braver than ai’ry man in the hamlet, for not all the gold 
in the country would tempt one o’ them to put foot on its 


7 


The Old House by the Sea. 

cursed grounds, let alone crossing its bloody threshold. 
The saints have purtected ye, an let ye come out alive to- 
day, dearie, but for the love o’ heaven don’t go there 
again, I beg o’ ye. If I hadn’t got to liken ye right well 
these few days ye have tarried among us, I would not 
have told ye this.” 

Miriam was strongly moved. The woman’s earnestness 
was evident. Miriam rose from the table and laid her 
soft, young hand on the wrinkled one of the old woman 
with a firm, kind grasp, and with her dark, magnetic eyes 
looking down into hers, said quietly: 

^^What is this story of horrible crime and sin and mys- 
tery that causes all of you to be so afraid of the old house 
up there ? I know there is a terrible story connected with 
it, and you know all about it and can give me its history 
if you will. Now, what is it, my good woman, for I am 
determined to know.” 

There was an actual look of fright in the ignorant 
old woman’s eyes; she winced, and shrank away from 
Miriam, in an attempt to evade answering so direct a 
question. But the fascinating eyes held her under their 
soft spell; she moved uneasily in her chair, crossed her- 
self as if for protection against any evil influence from 
those same bad spirits, but was still uncommunicative. 

^^You dear, good soul,” again resumed the sweet, musical 
voice, ^^you have warned me so kindly, you have even said 
you liked me — ^then why will you withhold this story from 
me, when it is necessary for me to know it? I am the 
present owner of the house, and I wish at least to know 
something of its early history.” 

^Ts it really necessary for ye to know it, my child?” 

‘Tt is,” Mariam answered earnestly. am going to 
the root of this matter. That was precisely what I wasted 
my time in coming out here for. I am going to find 
out what this mystery is and clear this unprofitable ghostly 
tenantry out, and make the place habitable again. I shall 
never live there myself, but I hope to dispose of it to 
some one who would be delighted to spend the summer 
months at the seashore and think it an unearthly paradise,” 
said the young girl ipischievously. 


8 


The Old House by the Sea.’ 

The poor old woman raised her hands in holy horror. 
^^The saints purtect them if they did, for they wouldn’t 
live over night, if they slept once in that accursed place.” 

‘T don’t believe I would be at all afraid to sleep there 
myself, if there was anything clean to sleep on,” Miriam 
replied, with an amused laugh; ^^but there isn’t, and so 
I am very anxious to hear the details of this awful story, 
and I expect you to tell me all about it.” Miriam stood 
watching the effect of her words. 

The poor creature seemed to desperately consider the 
situation for a moment, for she finally said : ^^Let me clear 
away these traps an call my good man, an in my own quiet 
room, where we will not be disturbed, we will both on us 
tell ye, sin ye seem so bound to hear it. But I warn ye 
now ye had better think twice afore it’s too late, for it 
be an ow’er gruesome tale, an one I heard sin a child, 
and yet not now do I like to think on it, much less to speak 
on it.” There was a queer expression on her careworn 
face as she busied herself carrying the few dishes; then 
she stepped to the latticed door of the little bar and spoke 
a few words in a low tone to her husband. She motioned 
to Miriam to come, and together they entered a cosy, old- 
fashioned sitting-room, with a curtained alcove bedroom 
adjoining. The large, cushioned easy-chairs invited rest 
and ease, and Miriam sank into the depths of one with a 
sense of relief. Presently her ‘^good man,” as she called 
him, entered with a rather troubled look on his otherwise 
happy face. He sat down uneasily and reluctantly, as 
Miriam could plainly see, not at all fancying the very 
unpleasant task his good wife had imposed upon him, by 
the importunities of that determined and persistent girl. 
After some hesitation and evident reluctance he commenced 
the story, helped along by his wife. Their chairs were 
drawn close together, Miriam’s eyes were distended wide 
with terror as she listened to a most horrible, blood-curd- 
ling story of crime and atrocity. 

The little Swiss clock in the corner ticked on, and the 
cuckoo came out and sung, then dropped out of sight, 
and not until the silver hands pointed to a ^Vee sma” hour 
^d the ghostljr tale come to m Opd. Jt was long ere sleep 


9 


The Old House by the Sea. 

visited Miriam’s wide-open eyes. If this tale were true, 
and if the old house could talk, what awful secrets it 
could unfold. Lying thus, excited, nervous, somewhat 
terrified, with all her good, practical common sense, she 
felt that its unexplored nooks and corners and sealed doors 
might remain so till the crack of doom, and the gray 
ghost haunt might go where the old lawyer suggested — 
to the dogs — before she would ever enter its gloomy por- 
tals again. The white moonlight flooded her little room, 
the salt sea air came in, refreshing, invigorating, and about 
the time the harsh notes of the early breakfast bell rang 
out Miriam’s dark eyes closed in heavy slumber, that 
lasted undisturbed for hours during the busy, bustling 
day. When at last she awoke refreshed she laughed at 
her foolish fancies, and they seemed to leave her now like 
wind-blown foam from the billows. 

She no longer had any desire to enter the gloomy old 
house again. Its secret passages, hidden recesses and 
sealed-up horrors might remain there, in eternal darkness 
forever, as far as she was concerned. Her fever for ex- 
ploring had suddenly cooled, and she was going back to the 
city and her busy office on the morrow, for she had rev- 
eled quite enough in the magnificence of the inheritance 
her queer old uncle had so generously bequeathed her. 
The morning dawned bright and beautiful, and, bidding 
her kindly interested host and hostess good-by, Miriam 
gladly turned her face cityward. For, though toil awaited 
her there it was home she was going to, cosy and sunny — 
no horrors there — and the noise .and bustle of the city 
kept her company, and her work, though confining and 
responsible, was very pleasant and lucrative. A number 
of days had elapsed since her return ere she thought of 
the mysterious slip of paper she had found on that last day 
of her ghost hunt. She thought it strange, too, that that 
important item should so easily slip her memory when she 
had been so intent to give it immediately into the hands 
of a detective on her arrival. 

It was on the eve of an important election, and her little 
instrument was in constant service, so she had little time 
to devoto to bor pwu interest^, Meanwhile, it could wait, 


10 


The Old House by the Sea. 

she thought. The old house would not run away (she 
heartily wished it would), and when she was through 
this temporary rush she would interest some real-estate 
firm in the property, and interview a detective. 

Time passed on. The rush was over, and Miriam was 
breathing easier, and that very morning was planning to 
put her project into execution. During the day the post- 
man handed her a letter in heavy chirography, adorned 
with a distant postmark and a substantial red wax seal. 
Miriam opened it and looked at the name. It was from 
her late relative’s attorney, asking very bluntly, and with- 
out any prelude whatever, if she had been down to visit 
her recent possession bequeathed her by her uncle, and, 
if so, how had she found it and what were her impressions 
of it? Adding, that there might be more in it than she 
dreamed of, and as he was her late uncle’s legal and con- 
fidential adviser, a great surprise might possibly await 
her at some distant day. 

^^Yes,” she mused aloud, ^die is right. There is more 
in that old house than I dream of, or care to know, either, 
and if I should confess to him frankly what my impressions 
were, and of its late owner also, for leaving it like a white 
elephant on my hands, he would consider such frank im- 
pressions very uncomplimentary indeed.” That evening 
Miriam entered a detective’s office with the strange piece 
of paper. 

‘‘What do you think of it ?” she asked very earnestly of 
the slender young man. 

He did not immediately reply, but his brows were 
drawn, and a puzzled expression was on his face. “Where 
did you get this?” he finally asked. 

She told him as briefly as possible, without acquaint- 
ing him too intimately with the secret of the old place or 
her own affairs; but she conveyed the meaning in her 
words that she had found it in an accidental manner. His 
keen, blue eyes seemed to penetrate her very soul and to 
read her secret thoughts as he bent them full upon her for 
the first time. His tone, though courteous, was cold and 
suggestive of distrust as he remarked, after hearing her 
explanation ; 


11 


The Old House by the Sea. 

is strange — I should say, exceedingly strange — that 
a young and innocent girl should come into possession, 
quite accidentally, of so remarkable a piece of property as 
this. There is more in it than you seem to know, or, 

perhaps, you do know and have come to me for He 

paused, still regarding her with those keen, suspicious 
eyes. 

Miriam felt the swift, hot blood mount her cheek and 
brow at the unmistakable significance of his words and 
tone ; but she bravely met his eyes with steady, unflinching 
gaze, and answered quietly, although her voice trembled 
with just indignation: 

^‘Your tone, words and manner indicate very plainly, 
sir, that you do not believe my statement. But, waiving 
aside for a moment the contents of that miserable slip 
of paper, which you seem to understand so well, I ask if 
I look like a criminal, a falsifier or a thief?” 

^^Did I say you were one?” 

^^No; but you are well aware that your tone and manner 
fully implied it.” 

For a moment the best criminal detective in the city 
was embarrassed by a slender, delicate girl, and a flush 
mounted his cheek. Miriam’s dark eyes never wavered 
in their steady gaze, but he noticed that the crimson spot 
on each fair cheek had died out, leaving her beautiful face 
deathly white. In that brief moment, too, he had time 
to notice how exquisitely lovely she was, but he thought 
she was going to faint. 

^^ill you have a glass of water?” he asked respectfully; 
^^you look ill.” 

^^No,” Miriam answered, with a tone of ice ; ‘^my nerves 
are made of good material. And now, with your per- 
mission, we will terminate this very interesting inter- 
view,” extending her hand for the scrap of paper, which 
he still unconsciously held. He was evidently surprised, 
and for a moment seemed about to make some reply or 
explanation; then he dismissed the thought, for bowing 
exceedingly low, he returned the paper, with no further 
word than a simple good-night as he opened the office 
door, through which she swept haughtily. In her small 


12 The Old House by the Sea. 

room tHa? night she picked up the offending bit of paper 
again and looked at it. 

^^hat are you, any way ? I see only a jargon of ciphers, 
with which an ungentlemanly clown has seen proper to 
insult me. Well, I shall keep you a while longer, at any 
rate, though I should throw you in the fire.^^ 


An Important Communication. 


13 


CHAPTER II. 

AN IMPORTANT COMMUNICATION. 

On the still waters of the sea, at Sandreve, one night, 
some distance from shore stood a mysterious looking 
cutter, quite motionless and dark, at a point just opposite 
the high cliff on which the old mansion stood. The hamlet 
people had noticed it several times lately, but thought it 
of no more importance, at first, than that it might be a 
trading vessel, or possibly to land some passenger with 
merchandise; but as no stranger or luggage of any kind 
was seen afterwards, a quiet wonder took possession of 
the dull brains of the simple people as to what was the 
business this vessel was engaged in, and why she always 
cast anchor at that particular point at night. She was 
generally seen at about the same hour; perhaps on a dark 
night she would be seen somewhat earlier, but ere the 
sleepy little place awoke to its labors in the morning she 
had vanished. Never but once had she been seen in full 
daylight, and then she steamed away in the first rays of 
the early sun; true, the national colors waved at her 
masthead, but why was she so uncommunicative? 

A few of the more venturesome ones had tried to solve 
the mystery by attempting to make her a friendly call, 
going out in their boats; but she invariably sailed away 
at each repeated approach. And now — and, indeed, for 
a long time past, no hardy old tar could be induced to ap- 
proach her, any more than they would the old house 
whose garden walls were ever continuously lushed by the 
waves of the sea* 


14 


The Old House by the Sea.^ 

WitK their superstitious natures they had come to re- 
gard her as an evil craft, connected in some manner with 
the old mansion, since she always cast anchor opposite 
the eastern point of the cliff in the shadow. Some 
averred they had watched to see if any small boat ever 
left her to land some one on shore ; but they had never yet 
seen a human being leave, and all seemed shrouded in 
blackness and silence on board the demon-acting vessel. 
At last they came to regard it as an ill-luck ‘‘spooke,^’ some- 
thing as sailors do yet the ^^Flying Dutchman,” and were 
more devout in their prayers whenever the ‘‘deviFs own 
craft,” as they called it, made its appearance. One very 
dark night, soon after Miriam’s departure, the hamlet was 
thrown into a state of intense excitement; something had 
happened, the nature of which the oldest inhabitant had 
never before witnessed. Lights of all colors were flashing 
from every window all over the old gray pile. Strange 
and terrible forms clad in long, white robes, flitting past 
the windows in the full glare of the unearthly light, were 
seen by the frightened inhabitants, who were watching from 
a safe distance, while strange, unearthly reverberations, 
like explosions, were followed by shrieks and groans and 
maniacal laughter. Each narrator gave a little different 
description of the weird scene, and of the evil spirits they 
believed had met and were holding an imp carnival in the 
cursed, crime-burdened house on this All Halloween 
night. 

Some even reported hoofs and horns, and big, fiery 
eyes, and were confident that the witches and demons 
were dancing to the unearthly strains of the devil’s fiddle, 
which they all declared they heard. 

Miriam did not believe a word of the sensational story 
of others that it was haunted. Neither did she believe 
that this last tale was anything more than the mis- 
chievous trick of some one more daring than the others; 
but who among them would have the courage to brave the 
ghostly gloom of the house to do this, was not so easil}^ 
answered, since not one in the hamlet would go near it 
even in daytime. 

So the fact remained^ undisputed and undeniable^ that 


An Important Communication. 15 

some evil influence had certainly been at work there. 
Something, or some one, either human or supernatural, 
she could not tell which, had successfully performed this 
horrible seance. It annoyed her exceedingly that this 
should happen just now when she was so desirous of sell- 
ing to the best advantage. She resolved to see some 
real-estate broker at once, and get him to take a look at 
it and make her an offer. 

The time she could devote to her own interests was 
rather limited. Several times she had called on Messrs. 
Hardwick & Company, only to find them closed after 
business hours. Therefore she sent a note, requesting 
them to grant her a half-hour interview as a particular 
favor, either on that or the following evening, after their 
usual closing hour. The small office boy returned with a 
reply that they would oblige her that evening, if the mat- 
ter was of importance. Miriam’s heart fluttered a little 
as she pulled on her gloves and started for the office of 
the well-known firm. She was not used to buying or 
selling or dealing in property, and she scarcely knew 
how to commence the business upon which she had called. 
She had not forgotten her experience of a few weeks be- 
fore with Detective Severn. When at last she stood in 
the office she saw only a pleasant, kind looking gentleman 
of middle age, and the boy who had brought the note. 

She told him its location, described its interior and 
exterior, how she had come into possession, and that she 
wished to dispose of it to the best advantage possible. 
She thought it best to speak of the foolish fears of the 
people in the neighborhood as the cause of its being so 
long vacant, but she touched very lightly and laughingly 
on the subject, only to disabuse his mind of any such 
thing existing except in the minds of the ignorant ham- 
let people, who would be sure to fill his head with all 
their weird stories if they had an opportunity. He lis- 
tened courteously and interestedly while she described 
the place and the people, his fine eyes lighting up, and 
an amused smile perceptible at times. But he looked 
very grave as he remarked that the ghost-loving fisher- 
folks :would probably prove a formidable obstacle to his 


16 


The Old House by the Sea. 

finding a purchaser who would care to live there. How- 
ever, he would either go down there and look it over him- 
self, or send some one who would communicate with her 
immediately if anything of importance occurred, and 
Miriam felt, as he politely bowed her out, that at last 
she had a gentleman to deal with. A few days after this 
interview Miriam received a brief note from the firm, 
saying that they had sent down their confidential clerk 
to Sandreve, and upon his return he had given such a 
gloomy report of ghouls and demons inhabiting the old 
place that they had nothing very encouraging to write 
her. But as soon as business permitted he (the senior) 
and one other would make a personal and thorough in- 
vestigation of the whole premises and, if possible, blow 
to the four winds of heaven these absurd and injurious 
stories; for no matter how fine the house or location the 
average American would object to going into a house 
with such an unsavory reputation. Weeks went by and 
nothing more was heard from the firm. Nature was 
slowly recovering from her long death trance and song 
birds were returning from their winter sojourn in the 
warm southland, when a note was handed Miriam one 
morning, from the firm. 

^‘Miss Percival: Call at your earliest convenience. 
Something of importance to communicate. 

^^Hardwick & Co.^^ 


I 


Miriam's Fortune, 


17 


CHAPTER HI. 

MIRIAM'S FORTUNE. 

As Miriam entered the office that evening she was 
met by the same elderly gentleman, who arose and pre- 
sented her to two others of the firm. 

‘‘Well, Miss Percival," he began, “these two gentle- 
men and I have been down to the hamlet to look at your 
property, and we took with ns a wealthy gentleman who 
would like just such a place to summer in were it not 
for the horrible reputation it bears. He was delighted 
with its location and the view from the cliff. Did it ever 
occur to you, while you were there. Miss Percival, that 
there was something more strange about the old place than 
its ghostly tenantry?" 

Miriam looked puzzled. “I don't quite understand your 
meaning," 'she replied. 

“Did you ever think that some living evil spirits might 
inhabit that old house occasionally, instead of the spirits 
of the dead?" 

The question almost took away her breath. “Impos- 
sible," she finally exclaimed. 

“So I was inclined to say at first, but I changed my 
mind. Perhaps it is very precipitate to say so now, with- 
out better proof." 

“Why, what have you found on which to hazard such 
a conjecture?" 

“Well, to the careless or indifferent observer, perhaps 


18 


The Old House by the Sea. 

nothing very tangible. But to a man trained to the busi- 
ness — a good detective, for instance, would probably 
make large capital out of the significant traces we found. 
If some one is either staying or hiding in that place for 
any period of time, you may rest assured it is for no honest 
or legitimate calling.^^ 

^^But what did you see?^^ she questioned. 

The senior partner looked at one of the others — that one 
nodded. ‘^Well, we found traces of footsteps in many of 
the rooms, one with recent mud, or sand. In the cellar 
were other and plainer footprints, leading to a rusty iron 
door, though we found it securely locked and bolted. 
One day we found one of the cellar windows (swinging 
inward) was opened wide, the next day it was closed and 
securely fastened. These positive facts rather staggered 
us, and to tell the truth, it looked as though they were 
well-developed spirits if they could track mud through 
a house and open and shut windows. This old gentle- 
man who accompanied us, and who, under other circum- 
stances, would he a prospective buyer, likes the old place 
and surroundings exceedingly, has plenty of money, and 
would not hesitate to pay cash down, providing that this 
mystery, whatever it is, whether devilish or human, could 
be cleared up.” 

^‘What do you suggest doing?” Miriam asked. 

donT know. But I would venture this: that a good 
detective would unravel the web in the course of time, 
and find out all there was about it, whether human or 
supernatural. If this abominable mystery could be solved, 
and it could be satisfactorily proven what was the agency 
and purpose, and what was the object gained by all this 
jugglery, and a thorough and convincing exposure be made 
of the offenders, to the ignorant people there, that would 
stop forever these stories of its being haunted, fifty thou- 
sand dollars could be put into your hands at once. It 
is a pity that such a fine old place, so exquisitely and 
elaborately finished inside and outside, situated in such 
lovely grounds, should be left to go to destruction with- 
out an heroic effort made to save it.” 

Miriam was silent a short time. Plainly his meaning 


Miriam’s Fortune. 


19 


was this — that out of her slender salary she should pay 
a detective to take up his abode there, day and night, 
to ferret out this infernal and baffling mystery. She 
could not do it. The state of her finances would not ad- 
mit. And yet — fifty thousand dollars ! She drew in her 
breath as she thought of it. She looked up after her 
brief reflection and encountered the kind gaze of the senior 
regarding her very earnestly. 

“Do I understand that you think some of the hamlet 
people are penetrating this ghastly joke for a purpose?^’ 

“No, I cannot think that, for one and all, from a man 
to a child, are thoroughly imbued with a fear and horror 
of the place, and believe it inhabited by the old one and his 
followers. I do not believe there is one among them who 
would enter the house for all the gold in the universe.’^ 

“Then Avho do you think it is?'"’ 

“That is a puzzle,^’ he said, smiling. “I cannot say who 
it is, but I firmly believe that some human agency is at 
the bottom of it all, with a distinct object in view.” 

Miriam rose to go. “I shall think this matter over be- 
fore I decide what to do.” 

“Do,” he answered very kindly, “and when you have 
reached a decision, before you act come and advise with 
me; perhaps I can aid you.”’ 

“I know you think a good detective is necessary,” she 
replied. 

“Yes,” he answered, “I should advise the aid of a good 
detective, and the keenest and best I know is Frank 
Severn.” 

She started— the very one she went to with the mys- 
terious scrap of paper. No, not for worlds would she 
employ him. 

Some days after this conversation a stranger called on 
her at the office — a rather rough-looking fellow and asked 
if she were the operator by the name of Percival. Mir- 
iam replied that she was, and what could she do for him ? 
He eyed her keenly for a moment, and then asked ab- 
ruptly if she owned any property doTO in the little fish 
hamlet by the sea? 


20 The Old House by the Sea. 

Miriam, in her turn, looked him over before she re- 
plied : 

^^Yes, I have recently come into possession of some 
property down there. Why 

He seemed slightly embarrassed for a moment by her 
coolness and her question. Finally he asked; ‘Ys it the 
old house on the cliff?'’’ 

‘^It is. Do you wish to buy the place?” 

^^Well, that depends,” he answered sullenly. 

'^On what,” she asked, ^^its cheapness ?” 

^^es, of course, that would be of importance, but there 
are other points to be considered as well. It is haunted. 
They do say around there that no one can stay in it over 
night.” 

‘‘Then why are you anxious to buy ?” 

He seemed to be perfectly taken aback by the unexpect- 
edness of the question, and too confused to reply at once, 
and before he could rally sufficiently to reply Miriam was 
giving him her views on the subject. 

“I don’t believe in any such silly, imaginative stories. 
I have been down there and investigated, myself, and so 
have other competent parties, and we are all thoroughly 
convinced that if there are any ghosts or witches they are 
living ones instead of dead. Its present damaging repu- 
tation has been kept up long enough, and for a purpose, 
and I am going to take decisive measures to remove it and 
make a place for respectable people to live in, instead 
of such poor tenants as ghosts,” she declared very emphat- 
ically. 

He was startled at her determined words and manner, 
and appeared to be very uneasy. There was a puzzled ex- 
pression on his heavy, dark face, that baffled Miriam’s 
keenness — a blending of low cunning, coarseness, and leer- 
ing incredulity, which he evidently thought he hid be- 
neath a smile, and as he asked the question: “What do 
you intend to do?” his wicked black eyes were regarding 
her intently, curiously. The bright noon sunlight was 
flooding the office, the usual city sounds of street traffic 
were wafted in at the open window, yet Miriam, with all 


Miriam’s Fortune. 21 

her assumption of coolness, felt an instinctive fear and 
aversion of this man. 

^^What am I going to do? I shall put good, able-bod- 
ied, determined detectives in possession of the place, and 
if necessary, officers of the law, in sufficient numbers to 
render any assistance the others need from assault by 
these so-called ghosts. Furthermore, I intend to have 
the old house thoroughly overhauled from garret to cellar, 
and everything about it inspected and investigated by 
competent parties. I intend to derive some benefit from- 
the grand old place, instead of letting it go to ruin, year 
after year, as a ghost tenantry.” 

Her spirited reply had lent a momentary flush to her 
white cheek, and a sparkle to her eyes. 

^‘Better not meddle with them ghosts, miss. Itfil take 
more than you or any one else to oust ^em off them prem- 
ises. They have had possession too many years. You 
don’t want any deal with spirits from t’other world. You, 
or any one else, would only get the worst on’t if you 
did.” 

‘^Why are you so particularly interested?” 

^^Oh, nothing, only for your own good,” he answered 
sullenly. 

‘T am not afraid of hobgoblins or their evil power. 
So I understand you do not want to buy?” she asked 
abruptly. 

^^Ho, not for myself, I only come to inquire about it 
for a friend.” 

Miriam was thankful that just then some one called 
on business, and her uncouth interviewer left the 
office. 

That evening, as Miriam neared her boarding-house, 
her attention was attracted by a number of voices speak- 
ing at once, followed by peals of laughter. Eemoving 
her hat and gloves in the hall, and entering the sitting- 
room, she discovered the cause of so much mirth. There 
sat a large, dark-faced gypsy fortune-teller. Around he.r 
was a bevy of thoughtless, merry girls, who were frankly 
commenting on the "fortunes” she had given them. They 
Svere, like herself^ self-supporting, respectable girls, but 


22 


The Old House by the Sea. 

having a little amusement at the expense of the woman’s 
feelings. As Miriam entered they made a rush for 
her. 

^^Oh, Miss Percival, you must have your fortune told 
too. We have all had ours told, and such awful things 
as she told us.” 

‘^Just think,” chimed in another, ^^she says I am going 
to marry an old, white-haired man for his money, when 
1 am engaged to Tom now.” 

“And,” said still another, “she told me I would cross 
the ocean on my wedding trip and be shipwrecked and 
drowned before I get there. What nonsense ! As though 
I would go now, since she told me this.” 

“Oh, do keep still, girls. Miss Percival is going to 
have hers told now.” 

“How do you know I am? I have not intimated such 
a thing.” 

“Oh, do, that’s a good girl. I do want to hear what 
she will tell you, for you are always so staid and proper.” 

Miriam stood there, with an amused smile, listening 
to the many ridiculous confessions of the disappointed 
girls. 

“I do not believe in such revelations,” Miriam said. 
“I have no desire to Imow what the future hides from 
me.” 

“Your pardon, miss,” interrupted the soft, smooth voice 
of the woman. “The future holds more for you than 
you dream. Much that is gloomy and dark is hidden from 
you, but I can see it.” 

“Oh, do let her tell you, and besides, she only charges 
a quarter.” 

“It is not what she charges,” began Miriam, “but I 
don’t 

“I shall not charge you anything,” the woman inter- 
rupted again. “You are a lady bred and true, you do 
not make ridicule of an old woman, as all these have 
done to-night, and I will not take your silver.” The 
girls looked rather crestfallen at the deserved rebuke. 

She took Miriam’s soft hand and scanned it over care- 


Miriam’s Fortune. 23 

fully, then she looked in her face curiously, ^^ill you 
have it told here, or alone she asked. 

^^Oh, you can tell me here, if at all,” Miriam replied. 
^^There is nothing in my past which I fear to have re- 
vealed.” 

know that, dear lady; hut there are some strange 
things about to happen soon, and I thought you would 
not ” 

‘^Never mind,” Miriam said, as the gypsy hesitated, 
^‘1 do not fear to meet whatever the future holds for 
me.” 

Yours is a brave spirit,” she said, as she looked again 
at the little hand. “Brave and true under severe trials and 
hardships, that make me even shudder for you. I see a sud- 
den journey to an unknown country. I see a little machine 
that writes strange words, that only you can read.” (“Tel- 
egraph,” some one whispered.) “I see a train of cars all 
smashed up, and I see the bad men that did it for the 
money — for money. But they donT get it. I see you 
there alone, white, frightened, but brave and true still. 
You send a letter with that queer writing on it and save 
the money. Then come more men, and they save you. 
Then comes another long, dark journey, at night. I 
see something held over j^our face — you sleep, and then 
wake in a dark place a long way off. Then I see you left 
alone to die. They all go away. You think you must 
die. Then a big bear — ^no, a big, big dog finds 
you and brings friends, and they take you away. Then 
I see a tall, fine man, a big house full of nice things; it 
is yours. Then comes a wedding — not in big house, but 
in a little house — your home. Then I see tears of sorrow, 
for you leave them, and go away to a far country, and you 
and your handsome husband live in this fine house. Every- 
body cries when you go, they love you so, and say you 
so good. But you go, and are happy, always, in your new 
home. Your husband is so good to poor people, he is like 
a prince, and the people bow low to him when he pa^^es 
them.” She dropped the little hand and looked up in 
Miriam’s face kindly, as she added: ^Tou are a brave^. 


24 The Old House by the Sea. ^ 

good lady, with a tender heart, and God will 
you.’" 

The thoughtless, silly girls had stood around, listen- 
ing, silent and awe-struck. Even the landlady stood quiet- 
ly in the doorway. 

At the close there was a chorus of ^‘Oh!’" ^‘Did you 
ever!” “How strange!” “Why couldn’t she have told 
us good?” “Well, it’s no wonder, for we made fun of 
her, and Miss Percival did not. She always treats every 
one well, no matter who they are.” 

Miriam made no comment, but unobserved, slipped a 
silver coin in the woman’s hand. 

“What do you think of it, anyway. Miss Percival? You 
haven’t said one word yet.” 

“There isn’t anything to say,” she answered. “You all 
heard what she said.” 

“But do you believe it will come true?” 

“Possibly it may — I can’t say.” 

“Come, the tea is getting cold, girls,” said the landlady. 
“You come out, too, my good woman. I think you have 
earned a good dinner and you shall have it.” 

The girls looked aghast, until they saw a substantial 
meal arranged on a side table, where the woman sat 
alone. The subject of fortune telling occupied their 
thoughts and their tongues all the evening, and to all 
their frankly spoken comments in her presence the woman 
never answered a word, but ate voraciously, as though half 
famished. Miriam said nothing. No raillery from the 
merry girls could provoke her opinion on the subject, 
only she was quiet and thoughtful during the dinner hour, 
and soon after it was over she slipped away to her room 
and its quietness. 



Miriam’s Early Life, 


25 


CHAPTER rV. 

Miriam's early life. 

Miriam Percival was born among the rural hills of 
Vermont. Her mother, an intelligent, refined, but deli- 
cate lady, died when her little girl was only six years old. 
Her father, a stalwart, broad-shouldered man in the prime 
of life, endowed with unusual practical good sense, kept 
the little one and the household together by securing the 
services of an elderly woman to take entire charge of the 
house and the child, and faithfully she bore the trust 
reposed in her. It would not be just to his loyal heart 
to say that the outwardly calm, quiet man, did not grieve 
deeply for the gentle, beautiful faced woman lying so 
quietly under the shadow of the spreading elm in the rural 
cemetery in the valley. He strove with all his earnest 
nature to be cheerful in the presence of the sensitive, 
bright little Miriam, whom he loved with an almost 
idolatrous love. There were hours, when he was alone 
with his grief, with no human eye to witness the silent 
agony of his soul, when with piteous eyes upraised to the 
calm, unpitying heavens, the broken voice would pray 
heaven to lighten this awful weight of sorrow or take him 
to the dearly loved lost one who had so early drooped by 
the wayside. Four years of this dual life — of uneventful 
outward calm, of constant, but unexpressed grief — ^no 
wonder life’s zest was gone forever. The weary ' leyes 
were always looking and longing for something they saw: 
not, 


26 


The Old House by the Sea. 

TKe passionate prayers were seemingly unanswered, and 
one day he lay down never to rise again. When told by 
the physician to set his house in order, for he had not long 
to live, he answered: ‘*My house has been in order a 
long time, waiting for the summons to go where I know 
she is.’^ It was only a matter of a few days ere the large, 
toil-worn hands were folded over the true, loyal heart, 
that would grieve no more for the one who was his young 
manhood’s hrst and only love. Little Miriam was then 
an orphan. Far away up among the green pine-clad hills 
lived Miriam’s Aunt Pameiia, her father’s only sister, — 
a sad-faced woman over whose quiet life there seemed 
to hang an unspoken but eternal tragedy. It had bleached 
her once bonny brown hair to a snowy whiteness, and 
through the sweet soft voice there was ever a cadence 
suggestive of tears. 

The neighbors could have told what this great trouble 
was that had fallen with its blighting force upon her and 
her good man, Isaac Watson. But they never referred 
to it in their presence; and whenever they spoke of it 
among themselves it was always in subdued tones. They 
could have told you that the only son, Ealph Watson, 
a mischievous, fun loving young rascal, upon whom pray- 
ers and preaching alike availed nothing, had fallen into 
wild company and, though not bad at heart, had taken on 
more or less of his companions’ habits. He had caused 
his parents more heartache and tears than any one knew 
of, besides some large expenditures of hard-earned cash. 
These incidents were always accompanied by repentance, 
tears, and promises on Ealph’s part to abandon the evil 
comradv?.s who hailed him as a good fellow. All would 
go well for a while, then their persuasions would prove 
too much for his good resolves and he would have another 
relapse. Then one never-to-be-forgotten day they were 
all arrested, caught in a small burglary. 

Vainly he protested his innocence in the affair, only 
as an involuntary witness on his part, but as they were 
all caught together the case went against him as well 
as the others, and they were all locked up, awaiting sen- 
tence. It was a terrible lesson to Ealph, and his frantic 


27 


Miriam’s Early Life. 

parents were nearly heart-broken. Bnt one night there 
was a determined break for liberty. Three shadows were 
seen scaling the dilapidated wall of the old jail; two others 
tried, but were caught by the jailer’s bull dog and held 
fast. 

When the jailer made the discovery of the culprits in 
the custody of the dog, it was too late then to look for the 
others, and no trace of them could be found. It was more 
than two years before either of the others, who escaped 
with Ealph, were heard from, and then they were safe 
from the law ; but the two whom the d.og had held as un- 
willing prisoners confessed that they, and they alone, com- 
mitted the theft, and the others, though associates, had 
nothing whatever to do with the case, except as mere in- 
cident had made them involuntary witnesses and, of 
course, suspected offenders. In the course of time the 
others came back, but Ealph Watson did not return, 
neither was he heard from. Not the slightest trace of him 
could be ascertained. Whether living or dead, or what- 
ever fate had befallen him, had hung like a mill-stone on 
their loving hearts all these long, weary years. Although 
he had been proven innocent at last, yet it mortified this 
worthy couple and bowed their old heads with sorrow. 
Wherever he was he had concealed his identity well, for 
no word or sign had ever betra3nd him, and the years 
slipped by on silent wing, and left each its added weight 
of sorrow, to the patient hearts that had long ago for- 
given, and only longed now for his return. “Where, oh 
where, is my boy to-night?” was the constant refrain of 
the dear, sorrowful old heart, and the quavering, broken 
voice never failed to ask heaven, on her bended knees, 
for one little comforting word from him, yet none ever 
came. The good old deacon was bent and bowed and 
gray long before his time, and though it had been years 
since either had mentioned his name yet they knew that 
the one name and the one ever remembered sorrow was 
uppermost in their minds. Never a Thanksgiving, Christ- 
mas, or New Year’s day passed that each did not silently 
hope for and wonder if Ealph would not surprise them by 
coming home. There was always some extra dainty dish 


28 


The Old House by the Sea. 

prepared that he had loved, a plate was silently laid, and 
a chair placed at the table for him. A tender tone crept 
into the voice in the daily offering of prayer and grace 
on these occasions, when the tremulous voice would ask 
that the all watchful Eye would remember ‘^earth^s wan- 
dering ones, and bring ^em hum wherever they be, if they 
still wanted to come and be pardoned.'’^ Into this peace- 
ful and religious home of Isaac and Pamelia Watson 
was our Miriam transplanted after the death of her fath- 
er. Very tenderly, too, did Aunt Pam (as Miriam called 
her) take the orphan child to her kind, motherly heart, 
care for her, love her and “bring her up^^ in the wise pre- 
cepts of the church, teaching her wisely and carefully, 
endeavoring to mould the young life into strong, good 
womanhood, and fit her for future usefulness. To Mir- 
iam’s partial eyes nothing on this earth represented such 
true and sterling worth, such uncomplaining patience and 
fidelity, and such pure, saintly old age, as Aunt Pam’s 
lowly life and example. With never a fear of harsh re- 
proof or punishment, even when justly merited, she loved 
the dear old lady as she never remembered loving anything 
in her short young life. Yet Miriam was not spoiled. 

Aunt Pam’s wish was her law, and she reverenced her 
as the truest and best of women, and she longed so earnest- 
ly for power to lift that eternal and never slumbering sor- 
row off the lives of both. Never a hand so soft as hers 
in sickness or death. Never words of wisdom, consola- 
tion, or comfort, given in so soft a voice, nor so tenderly 
spoken, as Aunt Pam’s. 

She would have asked for nothing better than to live 
all her life under that blessed roof with those two old 
people. But the little farm had never quite recovered 
from the constant drain of interest that the heavy mort- 
gage had demanded all these years, placed there by trouble 
so long ago. And Miriam, realizing this, and all the 
straitened circumstances of the aged couple, as she grew 
into maturer years resolved that the world was wide 
enough to give her a place as breadwinner in it and, per- 
haps, with a salary sufficient to repay some time all the 


29 


Miriam’s Early Life. 

old couple had so unselfishly lavished upon her. She 
built gorgeous air castles for the future, of the ease, 
comfort and happiness she would give them some time. 
The opening of this story finds her already established 
in a telegraph office, with a moderate salary, which to her 
ambitious nature meant so much toward the accomplish- 
ment of her dreams. The old house should be thoroughly 
repaired and refurnished, a strong man should be re- 
tained to help Uncle Isaac on the farm ; all the old fences 
should be replaced with new. The mortgage should be 
ffiifted’"’ from the farm, all the debts should be paid 
and a new horse and carriage should be bought for aunty 
to drive to the village with her butter and eggs, in place 
of old Sorrel and the ^ffiimocrat wagin” that so closely 
resembled the other deacon^s wonderful Affine boss shay.^^ 

Aunt Pam — dear, blessed Aunt Pam — what wonderful 
things she would do for her! What untold benefits she 
would shower upon her, and all with the money her 
slender hands could earn. The world was full of grand 
possibilities; great undertakings were to be so easily ac- 
complished for those she loved. No thought of herself 
entered into her earnest work — she was willing to wait. 
The only knowledge she ever had of this relative who 
had left her this property at Sandreve, she had gained in 
a vague way foom Aunt Pam. Such an individual was 
supposed to be Wing, as they had never heard of his death. 
He was a bachelor brother of her mother, miserly and some- 
what odd, but owner of vast wealth, living alone in a 
grand old manor house many thousands of miles away. 
As he had never troubled them, or they him — and there 
was no danger that he ever would, at least with any of his 
wealth — ^he was never mentioned unless some chance sub- 
ject brought his name in question. 

Once indeed, Miriam had startled Aunt Pam by ask- 
ing if she thought the queer old man would give her any 
money if she were to write him and represent the family 
needs and tell him of the mortgage? 

Aunt Pam raised her poor old hands in horror, with 
a look of absolute alarm on the dear, troubled face, and 


30 The Old House by the Sea. 

sncli an emphatic disclaimer in words and tone that 
Miriam never broached the subject again. But, though 
she was silent, she fully intended to put to the test some 
time the old man’s generosity, by writing a letter that 
would touch him; but she never did, and in after years 
she was very glad she did not appeal to him. 


Attacked by Train Robbers, 


31 


CHAPTER V. 

attacked by train robbers. 

ALTON" Cut, May, 1878. 

^^SuPT. Western" Union" Telegraph Co.: Can you 
send me a reliable operator at once, to fill the post tem- 
porarily of night hand, Tom Hall, who is down with fever ? 
One with some nerve and coolness preferred. 

“SuPT. Walton Branch, Station 

So ran the telegram that the superintendent on that line 
read to Miriam^^ soon after entering her office one bright 
morning. She moked at him inquiringly. 

'T have selected you to fill the position,^’ he said. ^^That 
is, if you have no objection to going. It is only tem- 
porary, as he says, but the salary is much higher than you 
are receiving here, and you can have this office again upon 
your return.” 

She glanced out of the window. A wistful look crept 
into her eyes as she asked: ^^Then you desire me to 
go?” 

would like you to fill the vacancy if you can will- 
ingly,” he answered, ^ffiut there is no compulsion. I 
know of others, but I could recommend you as filling the 
bill in every particular, especially nerve and courage.” 

^‘When shall I start?” 

^Tmmediately, if convenient.” 

She rose from the instrument. 

^Tt is a long distance,” he said, as he handed her a 


32 


The Old House by the Sea. 

pass and a small roll of bank notes. Then he took her 
hand and said very earnestly: ‘T need not tell you how- 
well the company have learned to value your services. 
Good-by.” 

“Good-by,” she said simply, but she stood in the door 
a moment and looked after his retreating form, wishing 
he had selected some one else. Then she put on her hat 
and scarf, took a long look around her pleasant little office 
that seemed so like home, from long and constant associa- 
tion, and walked thoughtfully down the street, in the di- 
rection of her boarding-house. The next day, late in the 
afternoon, saw her domiciled in her distant office as night 
operator. A dark and gloomy looking place it was, too. 
Lonely, even in day time, with the birds singing and the 
wild flowers blooming; but at night it was desolate in the 
extreme, with the forest of tall, dark, whispering pines 
and swaying hemlocks growing close to the office window 
on one side, and on the other, across the tracks, the broad, 
level fields, beyond whose unobstructed surface she could 
see the spires and slanting roofs of the rural village of 
Walton. This was Walton Cut, and through it ran the 
four lines of glittering steel, stretching away into space, 
with the usual sidetracks and switches. The depot con- 
sisted of a small passenger room, baggage room, with a 
telegraph and ticket office all in one at one end of the 
building. Dark panels, oak-stained, dingy, cheerless and 
dismal — such were the surroundings of her present loca- 
tion. Brave-hearted Miriam felt her heart sink as she 
surveyed its bare outlines, in contrast to her pretty, tasty 
office she had left the day before. “Whether I like it or 
not I am here and will make the best of it,” she com- 
forted herself. “It will not last forever, and while I 
stay I will do my duty, and the company shall never re- 
gret that they entrusted me with this office.” 

A quarter of a mile down the track, around the bend, 
equally isolated and obscure, was the nearest farmhouse, 
and here she eventually boarded. The tall pines hid 
the house from view. From the office she could not even 
see its cheerful lamp-light in the window. Her host was 
also the baggage master at the station, an old man, and 


33 


Attacked by Train Robbers. 

he usually left the place soon after ten o’clock at night. 
His surprise was great when he saw a young and slender 
girl put in an appearance, take possession of the vacant 
office, and apply at the cottage for board. He told his 
wife that he “didn’t see why the company couldn’t hev 
sent a hefty man down there, one ’at could lift suthin’, 
’stead o’ that white-faced gal.” 

However, they took the “white-faced gal” to board, for 
the almighty dollar was as powerful a factor with them as 
with any one else. The unconscious victim of this un- 
kind remark took possession of the small sleeping apart- 
ment assigned her, paid her board regularly, attended 
faithfully to the duties of her office and went serenely on 
her way. It was not long before she won her way into 
their lasting esteem by her quiet, unobtrusive manners, 
cheerful disposition, and efficient business capacity, even 
though she was not “hefty enough to lift suthin’.” Her 
work, though confining, was light, not much traffic being 
transacted along the line at night, and no trains stopped 
there after nndnight. The long express and mail car 
went thundering through the dark silent valley at two 
o’clock in the morning, waking the echoes far and near, 
emitting millions of sparks, and leaving a billowy line of 
black smoke on the heavy air. 

After twelve o’clock there was really nothing in the line 
of actual service to perform, unless a special dispatch 
ordered the through trains to stop on account of accident 
or otherwise. Her orders from the company required her 
constant attendance there until such an hour in the morn- 
ing, when she was relieved by the day assistant — a freckle- 
faced, bashful fellow, a recent recruit, and a relative 
of the old baggageman. He dwelt in the home of his 
childhood, somewhere among the cluster of houses in 
the distance which so enchanted Miriam as she looked 
across the level fields. 

Poor Tom Hall did not “get up again in a few days,” 
ready for office, as they predicted he would. Instead, he 
lay tossing and moaning, talking incoherently of trains 
and dispatches, in the wild delirium of typhoid fever. 
Anxious friends watched by his bedside constantly or 


34 The Old House by the Sea. 

hovered over his pillow with pitying love, bathing the 
scorched face, or quieting with mesmeric touch the wildly 
clutching fingers. 

Miriam began to feel as the weeks went by that her tem- 
porary position was likely to become a permanent one 
from the information she received of the slow convales- 
cence of young Hall. She shuddered at the thought of 
passing the intolerable, lonely winter nights in that iso- 
lated office. The strong, invigorating, spicy scent of the 
pines was pleasant enough now; so was the mournful, 
sighing song of their swaying branches, the lovely wild 
flowers and the green grass creeping everywhere. They 
were very beautiful now, but when the dark night of win- 
ter settled down, and the gloomy pines sang a requiem over 
the beautiful summer past and gone, instead of its soft, 
wooing, slumbrous whisper; when the snow lay in great 
white, silent drifts where the grass and flowers had so 
lately been, how would it be then? Perhaps she could be 
compelled to stay, if the company did not choose to rein- 
state her in her former office, as the superintendent had 
promised that sunny morning that seemed, oh, so long ago. 
She was beginning to be a little homesick. She found 
herself longing for her cosy little office, for the city 
sounds and voices which crept in but which did not in the 
least disturb her. 

She longed once more for her small but tastefully 
furnished room, with the family with whom she had lived 
so long and pleasantly. She had an indescribable long- 
ing, too, to see Aunt Pam; to go out there in the calm, 
quiet country some day before long, and stay over Sun- 
day with the lonely old couple. She could see her now, 
the faded blue eyes peering through the steel-bowed 
glasses and the snowy muslin cap almost hiding the prema- 
turely gray hair. Dear Aunt Pam! She had been such 
a faithful mother to her in her motherless girlhood: 
true and loyal to the promise made her dying brother, 
and so conscientiously kept all these swiftly passing years. 
She wondered if she went out to the old battered gate 
sometimes, even now, to watch far down the road for her 
home-coming, as she used to when she was a child. How 


35 


Attacked by Train Robbers. 

many times she had seen that snowy cap, as she turned 
the curve in the dusty highway, and her tripping young 
feet had scarcely touched the cool grass by the roadside, 
hurrying to throw her warm young arms around the 
little figure awaiting her. She could almost hear the trem-. 
ulous old voice ask: ^‘What kept you so long, dearie?” 

It was the close of an unusually sultry day. The leaves 
hung limp and still on tree and bush; nothing seemed 
to have life or motion. Miriam was slowly preparing 
for her vigil at the lonely office. These retrospective 
thoughts had filled her mind, crowding swiftly one upon 
the other, as she started down the narrow, beaten path, 
and she could not quite dismiss them as she entered upon 
her usual duties. She wondered what made her so op- 
pressed and gloomy; it was not a bit like her, she knew. 
To make her still more happy and contented, her red- 
haired, freckled assistant remarked very cheerfully. Just 
before he left for the night: ‘T bet thereTl be an awful 
storm Tore mornin^, the clouds look Jest like it, an’ if 
there is. Jest as like as not somebody or suthing will be 
struck by lightnin’ around here. Glad it ain’t me as stays 
here in a storm, ’cause I’d hate to be struck an’ all busted 
up, an’ no good arter that.” Then he grinned and showed 
two rows of large white teeth and an awful mouth, and 
left as cheerfully as could be expected of one who had 
done his duty so well. A few minutes after she heard him 
whistling, ^^The girl I left behind me,” and she wondered 
if he meant her. Then she remembered that a few weeks 
before he had imparted to her Just as cheerfully, the 
assuring information that he ^Vouldn’t stay in that there 
consamed hole alone at night,” as she did, ^Ter the hull 
darned railroad.” 

^^Why ?” Miriam asked innocently enough, yet amusedly 
thinking what an invaluable factor he would be to the 
company under any circumistances — good natured, but lazy 
and incompetent. His answer to her question was per- 
fectly stunning, accompanied, too, by his characteristic 
grin. 

^^Why? ’Cause I wouldn’t be ’sprised if some of them 
masked burglars ^e read about Fould come down here 


36 The Old House by the Sea. 

most any night and loot the ’spress train an’ eyerythin’ 
in it.” 

the express train doesn’t stop here ; it goes through 
without stopping/’ she answered. 

‘^Wall, it co'idd stop here, you know, if any of them 
gentry wanted it ter ; ’cause it’s lonesome an’ a good place 
— an’ you’re a gal, an’ you couldn’t scrimmage much;” 
and pointing his thumb over his shoulder and trying to 
look very knowing, in which particular he failed utterly, 
he took his departure. 

After he was gone that night Miriam thought of the 
freckles, the red hair, the lank, loose figure in the blue 
jeans, and his cowardly words, and laughed heartily; 
then she settled down to business and thought no more 
about it. But to-night that conversation came back to 
her with a persistent and haunting memory. 

Train robbers! What if they should appear to her 
some time and compel her to stop the train ! It was, as 
Tim said, a lonesome place. She stepped to the door and 
looked out. It was already getting dark. Great masses 
of black, heavy clouds were spreading over the sky, and 
still that breathless, oppressive hush. She surveyed the 
face of nature with some apprehension — the lowering 
heavens, the gloomy pines, the early, mysterious dark- 
ness settling prematurely down on everything around her. 
^‘Nonsense,” she exclaimed aloud, ‘T believe I am get- 
ting as cowardly as Tim.” Then she entered the office, 
just as the friendly shriek of a distant freight sounded 
in her ears. 

She sat down to her little table, littered with the neces- 
sary papers and dispatches, and was soon absorbed in her 
work. Then the rain began to fall. Slowly at first, but 
increasing fast as the hours sped by until about midnight 
it swept down in torrents. 

The tall pines moaned like a thing in pain, swayed by 
the wind, which blew in a strong, continuous gale. The 
vivid hashes of lightning would occasionally reveal the 
drenched and desolate fields and the writhing trees. Two 
or three wet, storm-lost little birds came buttering against 
the window, attracted by the light, and Miriam took them 


37 


Attacked by Train Robbers. 

in, smoothed and dried their trembling little bodies and, 
improvising a temporary perch for their comfort, soon had 
the satisfaction of seeing their pretty brown heads tucked 
under their wings, their troubles forgotten. Nearly one 
o’clock! The last freight would be due in five minutes. 
Its reverberating whistle was already sounding in the 
distance. It would slow up for dispatches, depart, and 
then actual business for the night would be over. Only 
the through express and mail train at two o’clock, and that 
never stopped at the Cut. The ponderous engine, with 
many a groan and grumble, came to a stop. Miriam 
handed the conductor the usual dispatches. 

‘^Beastly night,” he remarked as he started out. ‘^You’re 
a brave girl to stay here alone, in such a storm as this. 
Good-night, and good luck to you.” 

He waved his red lantern from the door of the car, 
and the long, heavy train pulled slowly out of sight. 
Miriam had just stepped in and closed and locked the 
door, w^hen a voice from outside, in a momentary lull, ar- 
rested her attention. 

^Tlease, miss, let me in; I want to send a message.” 
The voice seemed that of a woman, muffled and faint. 

^^Who are you?” Miriam asked, irresolute, with her 
hand on the knob. 

^^Open, quick,” came in the same faint, tremulous tones ; 
‘T want to send for a doctor at Cordon; some one is 
dying — bleeding to death.” 

She waited no longer. Open came the door on the in- 
stant, Miriam expecting to see a pale, drenched, fright- 
ened woman standing in distress before her. But, in- 
stead, in walked six big, brawny, uncouth looking men, 
wdth black masks and long rubber ulsters. Miriam stood 
with wide open, horrified eyes, too paralyzed to move oi: 
speak. She did not faint nor scream, but gazed at them 
with a deadly sinking at her heart, born of a knowledge, 
sure and certain, of the character of these desperadoesi , 
and the mission on which they were bent. 

Advancing toward her, the leader spoke: ^^Don’t be 
afraid, little girl. Do just as I tell you and you shall not 
be harmed. Kefuse’^- — and he carelessly held up a glit- 


38 


The Old House by the Sea. 

tering revolver. ^^This/^ he remarked, loaded, ready 
for accident, you know.^^ 

Miriam had slightly regained her composure, enough 
to ask: ‘^What do you want?’’ 

‘^Go to your machine and send a message.” 

Oh! the deadly faintness against which she was strug- 
gling, fearing she would succumb to its creeping numbness. 
She seated herself at the local, and turned her white, de- 
spairing face toward him. 

‘‘What time is the express due at Cordon?” he asked. 

“At twenty minutes of two o’clock,” she answered, in 
steady, even tones. 

“What time is it due here?” 

“Just two o’clock.” 

He glanced at the little clock ticking away on the wall, 
“It will be there in twenty minutes, then?” 

She nodded. 

“Send a dispatch to hold the train fifteen minutes over 
time at Cordon.” 

“But I have no authority to do so, except under orders 
from another office,” she answered, with a mighty effort to 
appear calm. 

He stood near the little table, very near, in fact, and 
slowly lifted the revolver in his right hand. “You send 
that message; you dare not refuse.” 

“Once more I ask, what right have you to order that 
or any message sent? My orders from the company are 
strictly to obey ” 

he interrupted, bringing the revolver on a level 
with her eyes. 

She looked piteously at the others, mutely imploring 
help or interference from them, but she might as well have 
asked pity of a stone as from the black, immovable shadows 
ranged silently against the wall. She glanced again at 
the hand that held the revolver. Even in that supreme 
moment of life or death, so incongruous and inexplicable 
will some things occur under certain circumstances, and 
she noticed how white and shapely was the hand and wrist 
that held the murderous weapon. 

Again came the stern command: “Quick! Dispatch tp 


Attacked by Train Robbers. 39 

hold the train fifteen minutes over. Accident! do you 
understand T’ 

Her hand was on the switch key — she hesitated — ^^this 
crime be on your head^’ — then she sent the fated false 
message. ‘‘There,” she said, her eyes blazing, “if any 
harm come to the lives on that waiting train 1 sincerely 
hope your life will pay the forfeit. You have made me 
disobey orders and do a dastardly, cowardly deed.” 

“Not quite so fast with your limber tongue, my girl, 
or it wonT be good for you,” he replied, with a disagreea- 
ble laugh. Then he turned to the others. “Here, boys, 
tie her down in the chair. She might be up to some 
tricks while we’re out, if her fingers are as nimble as her 
tongue,” and he handed them a small rope. “Tie her 
hands securely to her side, but no roughness or violence, 
remember, for she is a lady, and a plucky little one, too.” 

Miriam rose from her seat. “Hands off !” she cried. 
“I will not be bound by those ruffians, like a criminal. 
You have compelled me to do something for which others 
will suffer, besides a disgrace and sorrow which I shall 
remember all the days of my life. You ought to be sat- 
isfied without adding violence like that,” and she pointed 
to the rope. For a moment the gang were speechless with 
astonishment. That a slip of a girl, white even to her 
perfect, arched lips, should dare to defy them, was beyond 
their comprehension. 

Then their leader’s voice broke the silence: “We are 
losing valuable time.” Like a flash he lifted her and set 
her gently in the office chair and held her while the others 
bound her swiftly and firmly, with many a cautioning order 
not to cord the flesh of arm or hand. “Now, boys, no 
time to be lost I” and he picked up the office lantern, and 
all filed swiftly out. Soon she heard the heavy blows of 
some blunt instrument on either the track or switch, as 
though breaking it. 

“Great heavens 1” she thought, “v/hat are they doing ? 
Tearing up the rails, to wreck the train 1 Oh ! if I could 
only get my hand free for one moment, — just one little mo- 
ment.” 

Frantically she writhed and twisted in the coils, to 


40 


The Old House by the Sea. 

loosen it enough to slip her hand out, but it only Kad 
the effect to cut into the tender flesh, and all the time she 
realized with torturing distinctness that precious time was 
being wasted, while the sharp, steady strokes outside were 
repeated with regularity and precision. Suddenly the idea 
occurred to her that in this dire emergency she would pub 
to the test a little scheme of her own, which she had prac- 
ticed while in college partly in jest, partly in earnest, for 
just such a terrible strait as this. She would try it, any- 
way; it could only fail, at the worst — and that was, writ- 
ing on the local with her chin. At the time she could send 
a correct, though slow message to the student at the other 
end of the line. 

Now how would it be? She leaned forward. Oh, joy! 
She could reach the instrument. She called the operator 
at Cordon. He did not respond. She called again. Then 
came back an answer: 

‘^Yes.” 

^‘Help! Help! Help! I am in the hands of a des- 
perate gang. They have held the train at Cordon,^ and 
are breaking the rails here. I am tied in a chair and 
writing with my chin — can you get it?’^ There was not 
much distinctness in the words, nor many pauses, but 
were rather run together, though written slowly. 

In the silence that ensued the receiver at Cordon was 
evidently studying out the strange jargon. But to Miriam 
it seemed an eternity while she waited, straining her prac- 
ticed ear for the slightest return. Would they reply be- 
fore those wreckers got through their murderous w^ork, and 
filed into the office again? The storm, that had slightly 
abated, came on again with increased violence, and now 
it literally raged. Oh ! Why did they not hurry ? If 
her captors were present when the reply came they would 
at once become suspicious and insist upon knowing the 
meaning of the message. 

Perhaps that would not be all. That glittering weapon, 
twice so near her head, might do its deadly work, and 
who would tell the ghastly story? With a feeling of 
horror, too, she realized that the heavy strokes outside 
bad ceased; and she could hear their voices; they were talk- 


41 


Attacked by Train Robbers. 

ing, but she could not hear distinctly what they said. 
This suspense was killing her. If she lived through this 
horrible night she wondered if her dark hair would not be 
snow white, like Marie Antoinette's. Just then, oh, joy 
unspeakable, she heard the well-known click, and read the 
words; though somewhat inelegant they were right to the 
point : 

^‘You are a brave little brick. Keep up your courage. 
Will send a force. Supt.” 

The last vibration had just ceased when the villainous 
crew entered and sat down, awaiting the result of their 
treacherous work with apparent satisfaction. 

^^Sorry we canT relieve you just yet, miss,^’ said the 
leader, ^Tut, you see, you are a game one — considerably 
out of the everyday run of women, and might do some 
tricks yet with them swift fingers of yours.'’^ 

She gave him a withering look. ‘'Oh, I hope you 
will not disturb yourself enough to apologize. I am ex- 
tremely comfortable, and very happy.^^ 

Again that peculiar laugh, accompanied with the words : 
“Very well, miss; then I would not disturb you for the 
world.” He glanced at the little clock again. “IsnT it 
time the express was here?” he asked. 

“It was time some minutes ago,” she answered. 

He rose and walked over to the desk. “Then why isn’t 
it here ?” he asked menacingly. 

“Because you compelled me, at the peril of my life, to 
hold the train fifteen minutes over,” she answered fear- 
lessly. 

“If I knew you had sent a different message than the 
one I ordered, I would” — here he raised the revolver very 
significantly. But just then a dozen glittering weapons 
crashed through the window with terrific force, with the 
order, “Hands up !” At the same instant the door was 
thrown suddenly open, and in rushed three others with 
drawn revolvers and the same order. 


42 


The Old House by the Sea. 


CHAPTEK VI. 

THE CAPTURE. 

did you do it?’^ 

It would be utterly impossible to describe the intense 
cojisternation and complete astonishment of the whole 
gang — the leader, in particular — at this entirely unlooked 
for surprise which had been sprung upon them and so 
successfully entrapped them. Despite the cords, which 
still hurt cruelly, Miriam sat there, beaming upon them 
such an enchanting and triumphant smile and looking so 
lovely, with the glitter of satisfaction in her dark, ex- 
pressive eyes, that the enraged leader paused a moment 
in his blasphemous oaths to look at her, as they were 
handcuffing him, before he relieved himself of the gall 
and bitterness within him by hissing out the words: 

‘‘You cussed white-faced little brat, how did you do 

itr 

In the struggle and excitement of arrest the masks were 
torn off, and Miriam readily recognized the swarthy, evil- 
faced fellow who had been at her city office on a pre- 
tence of buying the place at Sandreve for a friend. Of 
course, as speedily as possible after the villains were se- 
cured,, the tenderest of hands undid the binding cords that 
had cut into the white flesh, although their leader had 
repeatedly reminded them to avoid any cruelty. While 
they were being made prisoners, prior to being taken back 
to Cordon on the same special engine that had brought the 
posse of officers and detectives, Miriam thought she had 


43 


The Capture. 

never looked on such an utterly hardened lot of men in 
her life, with the exception of the leader. He was de- 
cidedly handsome, with features perfect in their soft out- 
line, complexion fair as a girl’s, large black eyes, and soft, 
wavy brown hair, while a dark, drooping moustache hid 
his beautifully curved red lips. 

During the excitement Miriam was composed and strong 
enough; but when the officers had gone with her un- 
welcome guests, and the young superintendent asked her 
to state the facts to the president of the road and the two 
directors who were with him, all three on their way home 
from an important railroad meeting, on the same train 
intended for complete destruction, she suddenly felt an 
unaccountable weakness stealing over her, the resultant re- 
action of the terrible ordeal through which she had just 
passed. She could scarcely stand. Her limbs seemed 
powerless to support her, and she trembled visibly. One 
of the directors, a fatherly old man, poured out a glass of 
wine from a flask in his grip and, handing it to her, said : 

^^Here, my poor child, drink this. It will help to re- 
store your nerves. There, thaVs righV^ as she swallowed 
it. ^^This business has been too much for your strength 
to-night.-’^ 

^^Yes,^’ said the president, ^‘'you are a brave girl — a very 
brave girl; and the company will not forget you nor the 
incalculable service you have rendered us by your presence 
of mind and heroism.^^ He stopped for a moment, as the 
everlasting din of the express, detained so long over time, 
went thundering through the Cut on the other track, 
which was cleared for it, the broken switch being guarded 
with the danger signals specially provided for such occa- 
sions. Then the president requested her to give him all 
the details of the case. She had partially regained con- 
trol of her trembling nerves, and the kindly expression 
on the face of the gentleman who gave her the wine re- 
assured her, and, while the handsome young superintend- 
ent stood beside her chair, the others drew up around her, 
as she gave in a clear, unaffected manner every par- 
ticular, from the time the last freight left the Cut, when 
the gang appeared, to the time the rescuing party arrived 


44 


The Old House by the Sea. 

on the special engine. They listened, spellbound, as she 
told how she transmitted the message, and gave each other 
many significant looks and nods of the head during the 
recital. Then there were very earnest expressions, com- 
plimentary of her bravery, coolness and ingenuity, which 
had so successfully saved not only their lives, but the lives 
of many hundred other passengers, who perhaps would 
never know the awful peril which had threatened them, as 
well as -the unusually large amount of money and precious 
stones entrusted to the keeping of the strong express 
safe in the mail car. Miriam was a veritable heroine. 
Their actual presence on the train, as eye-witnesses to the 
averted catastrophe, the heroic conduct of the young girl 
who had averted it, the proofs of which were before their 
own horrified gaze, the prisoners, the broken rails and 
ruined switch, all impressed a picture on their memories 
which would never be effaced. 

It was now early morning. The beautiful pink flush- 
ing the sky in the east paled the light of the office lamp 
and reflected in the windows of the depot. The cheery 
notes of the robin were heard from the whispering pines, 
ushering in the cool, balmy breath of a lovely sunny morn- 
ing. The traces of last night^s storm were plentifully 
revealed in the wet and sodden fields, broken limbs, twisted 
trees, and numerous washouts along the track. All na- 
ture seemed to rejoice that the terrible ordeal through 
which it had passed was over. When the old man ap- 
peared, to take charge for the day, and stopped speech- 
less at sight of the destructive work "there, Miriam rose with 
a feeling of utter weariness and exhaustion that she had 
never experienced before, and put on her hat to leave the 
office. 

The president and directors each took her hand with » 
an earnest clasp, assuring her that this was not the finale, ' 
as they would see her again soon, or at least she would 
hear from them in a very special manner. She was too 
weak and faint to scarcely heed what they said. The fit- 
ful strength had left her, with the natural reaction of 
weakness. The fire of excitement in her large eyes had 
died out; and her delicate face seemed transparent, in its 


The Capture. 45 

extreme whiteness. The young superintendent took her 
arm as she started, saying he was afraid she would faint 
before she reached the cottage, adding, that if she had 
any commissions he was at her service, as he would be 
detained there until the damage was repaired; for he 
presumed the company would leave the Cut on the ac- 
commodation train which passed through at ten-thirty. 
So she need not think of resuming her post that night; 
as he would take charge. Then bestowing upon her an 
ardent look of admiration, he lifted his hat at the rustic 
gate and strode down the path to the depot. Poor Miriam ! 
It was evident that she was expected to resume her duties 
at the office again, after a brief rest. But when she entered 
the cottage she looked so wan and white, and felt so utterly 
weak, she thought she would not live long enough to fill 
that or any other position. A creeping, chilly sensation 
seemed to benumb her whole body, except her head, and 
the blood felt like fire coursing through her brain. The 
old lady held up her hands in astonishment, and sprang 
to assist her as she entered. 

^Tor the good lands^ sake, child, whatever is the matter 
with ye? Why, ye air as white as a ghost, an’ like as 
not ye will faint rite away ef ye ain’t keerful. Here, set 
rite down in this big rocker, an I’ll git ye suthin’ to eat at 
once.” Tenderly supporting the spiritless girl, she seated 
her in the big, comfortably cushioned chair, lifted the 
dainty hat from the dark, silky curls, tipped the chair back, 
lowered the shade, and stepped softly out to get her a 
cup of tea and some toast. To Miriam these little minis- 
trations were inexpressibly sweet and soothing, coming 
as she knew, from the spontaneous kindness of the warm 
old heart. She sank back amid the cushions, leaned her 
head on the ample back and closed her tired, aching eyes 
with a sense of the perfect rest she so much needed. Pres- 
ently the kind old creature, who seemed to know just what 
to do for the nervous girl, came in with a basin of cold 
water and soft towel, and proceeded to bathe Miriam’s 
white face, neck and hands, which she did without the 
iFutferer even unclosing her eyes. Then, wetting the hot, 


46 


The Old House by the Sea. 

aching head, she bound a wet compress around the throb- 
bing temples, saying: 

‘‘There, child, I think ye will feel better soon; but ye 
do look all tuckered out an^ bad. That ^ere railroad work 
is too hard fer a woman. I was tollin’ my old man only 
last week I’d ruther clean house an’ make soap any day.’^ 
She soon reappeared with a cup of fragrant, steaming 
tea and a slice of deliciously browned toast covered with 
cream. “Now, dearie, ye must eat, or ye will be sick sure 
’nuff. Why, I never see ye in sich a way sense ever ye 
come amung us,” she said, as Miriam made an effort to 
please her by tasting the toast, but told her she did not care 
for breakfast — she only wanted to sleep and forget. Jiist 
then, Israel — her “ole man,” as she always called him 
— burst in excitedly, to tell her the awful news, but, seeing 
Miriam with closed eyes, white and motionless in the chair, 
he stopped like one struck dumb. Then he motioned with 
one crooked finger to his wife and, when they had ad- 
journed to the woodshed, where no possible sound could 
reach the sitting-room, he asked if she (meaning Miriam) 
was dead. 

“Lands’ sake alive, no; I hope not.” 

“Wall, she do look a heap like it. I didn’t know but 
she wor, seein’ what she went thru’ las’ night.” 

“Why, Israel, what du ye mean?” 

“Hain’t she tole ye? Ye don’t tell me she ain’t never 
said a word ?” 

“I think, Israel Shelton, ye air goin’ stark crazy. She 
ain’t tole me nothin’. Why, what is there to tell?” 

“Then she didn’t tell ye thet she saved the lives of 
the hull derned railroad all over the kentry, and ketched a 
lot o’ black cut-throats what broke up the track and busted 
the switch an’ tied her hand and foot, an’ made her hoi’ 
up ther train so they could rob it an’ all thet an’ more 
tu. You don’t mean, ole woman, she never tole you?” 

“I mean, Israel, that purty cretur never said a word 
about all this ’ere. An’ more’n thet, the pore gal is so 
tuckered out I wouldn’t be ’sprised if she didn’t sit over 
it in a hurry.” 

“Well! Well! ole woman, ef thet don’t jest beat all, 


47 


The Capture. 

to think thet air gal never tole ye a thing o’ all this, 
an’ the hull kentry a-ringin’ an’ a-shoutin’ of the news, 
an’ the president o’ the road an’ his hull gang a-telegrafin’ 
all over what she’s done an’ a-votin’ her a hero.” 

‘^An’ so she is a hero, the dear little cretur,” assented 
his wife, strongly excited. ‘^So she is a hero, tu go thru’ 
thet, all alone down thar, an’ we a-sleepin’ in our beds so 
peaceful like, an’ them devils near about murderin’ her, 
with her white, purty face.” 

‘‘That’s so, ole woman, that’s so. I wish I could see 
her — jest see her once ’fore I go back,” he said, in a rev- 
erent tone. “Left Tim an’ the superintendent in charge 
fer a minute, an’ thought I’d run up an’ tell ye the 
news an’ shake hands with the hero.” 

“Ye can’t shake nothin’, Israel ; at least, not jest now, 
an’ ye mustn’t ’sturb her, nuther. She wouldn’t eat 
nothin’, an’ said as how all she wanted was rest an’ fergit,” 
and she led the way as both tiptoed to the door of the 
cool, darkened room. 

Israel unconsciously took off his old, battered straw hat 
and drew in his breath hard as his eyes took in the re- 
clining chair, the lowered sash, the white, perfect face 
and the closed eyes, with the ghastly compress around 
the dark, motionless head. 

The whole country was ringing with the news of the 
brave girl’s original idea of sending a message, and sav- 
ing lives and valuable property. Freckled-faced Tim de- 
clared : 

“If I’de a-knode it, an’ the danger she was in, I guess 
I’d got rite up and put on my pants, an’ come down in 
the rain an’ help’t her out.” And the old man looked at 
him admiringly, for was he not his own nephew, and al- 
most a hero to make such a bold assertion ! But poor 
Miriam, unconscious of the great sensation she had 
caused, lay with closed eyes and severely aching head, com- 
pletely prostrated, in the cool “spare bed” in the quiet 
parlor bedroom, where the gentle breeze wafted in through 
the morning-glory vines that covered the open window, 
bringing with it the fragrance of the lilacs that grew beside 
it. Israel had to take a “cold bite” that day for dinner^ 


48 


The Old House by the Sea. 

for his wife said ^^she wasn’t goin’ to neglect that pore gal 
fer all the menfolks in the world; an^ ez long ez Israel 
hed hed a good hot breakfast, an^ meat victuals, too, she 
guess’d he wouldn’t starve.” So she steeped one herb 
potation after another for Miriam to swallow, declaring 
she could cure her without the aid of a doctor, ‘^fer hadn’t 
she giv’ the same kind of medicine to Martha Ann when 
she had the measles, an’ mumps, an’ whooping cough, an’ 
wa’n’t that ’nuff site wuss than bein’ skairt ’most to death, 
she’d like ter know?” 

That afternoon Superintendent Earl Brandon called 
on Miriam. The old lady told him she ^^reckoned” she 
was asleep, as she hadn’t spoke a word all day, but she 
would look in and see. 

Presently she returned, with the word, ^^Yes, the pore 
little cretur said she would see him.” She conducted Earl 
to the sick room, and was astonished to hear Miriam tell 
him (after all her dosing of herbs) that the company must 
make other arrangements, for she should never fill that 
position again, and would leave very soon for her home 
at her aunt’s. 

^^But you are not half well ’nuff to go yet, dearie,” said 
the kind old soul; “the journey will tucker ye clean out. 
Stay here, an’ I will take keer o’ ye like yoii was my own 
child.” 

“Yes,” said Miriam, “I know you would, and I appre- 
ciate all you are willing to do for me, but I must go home 
to get well.” 

“Could not your aunt come here and take care of you ?” 
the young man asked. 

“No! I have been lying here and thinking it all out. 
Aunt could not leave home, and I could not ask it. It is 
better for me to go there.” Miriam was thinking of the 
mortgage and interest, and general lack of funds, and 
realized the impossibility of the proposed plan. 

“When do you think you would be able to go?” the 
quiet voice of the superintendent asked sadly. 

“Immediately!” she answered, with some enthusiasm. 
“To-morrow — before I get any worse. Out in the quiet- 
ness of the farm I shall not think of the dreadful things 


49 


The Capture. 

that have happened here, and I will get well, I hope/’ 
Again came the remonstrance : 

“But ye air tu sich tu travel yet, my dear.” 

“I may be a great deal worse before I am better,” 
Miriam answered. 

Earl Brandon was silent a moment, with his handsome 
brows drawn in perplexity. Then he spoke in the same 
sad tone, not at all like his usual cheery, laughing self. 
“Could you wait until the day after to-morrow?” he 
asked. “I could then render you some necessary assist- 
ance.” 

“Yes, I could wait until then, but I don’t think it at 
all necessary to make you any trouble. I can sit up by 
that time and travel alone very nicely.” 

Then again Earl Brandon spoke : “I am extremely sorry 
you are so ill you must needs go home. I regret the hap- 
pening more than I can express, for by it this road will 
lose your valuable services forever. But if you will wait 
until day after to-morrow I will make this suggestion, 
which your weak and nervous state demands. I am going 
to take my young sister on a vacation to a relative of ours, 
on the same line on which you will travel and, with your 
permission, we will accompany you to your destination.” 

There was a flash of genuine pleasure in the dark eyes, 
and she answered with enthusiasm: “I shall be delighted, 
and consider myself very fortunate.” 

“Very well, then, we will consider the matter satisfac- 
torily settled. Give yourself no nervous fears about the 
journey; my sister and I will attend to everything for 
your comfort. I will see you again, when everything 
will be arranged, to the flnal hour of starting.” He rose 
to go, and then handed her a small package, which he had 
concealed until then. “This little parcel,” he said, “is 
a slight testimonial which the company wish their brave 
young operator to accept for the invaluable services ren- 
dered them last night.” 

“I ask no financial recompense. I simply did my duty 
— under difficult circumstances, I allow, but as I accom- 
plished it I am sufficiently rewarded already.” She pushed 
it from her. 


50 


The Old House by the Sea. 

“I beg you will accept it,” he said very earnestly. “It 
is in nowise paying yon for yonr brave work, but simply 
a present/^ 

^^Yes/^ she said gently, nnderstand all their kind 
intentions, but it is paying me just the same. I am not 
mercenary enough, I hope, to take pay for saving human 
lives. I had much rather be remembered gratefully in 
their hearts.” 

‘^And so they will remember you, all your life, rest 
assured of that. Now, good-by till I see you again, when 
I hope to find you much improved.” He left with the 
package, firmly resolved that when she arrived at her 
journey^s end and her belongings were unpacked she would 
find that identical parcel among them, where she would be 
powerless to refuse. Until then he would keep it in his 
own possession, trusting it to no one. Now this very dis- 
interested plan of taking his sister on a vacation visit 
was only an ingenious ruse on his part, while he sat 
there puzzling his busy brain how he could form an ex- 
cuse to accompany the lovely invalid to her home, divin- 
ing her independent character, knowing she would accept 
no favor which, in her estimation, would place her in 
awkward indebtedness to him. Making his sister an ex- 
cuse would pave the way for him to remain in her de- 
lightful company as long as possible. That night the 
dear old lady gave her another dose she had prepared, 
which she declared would put her to sleep, and maybe she’d 
wake up so much better in the morning she’d make an 
, effort to stay; for the old couple had become greatly at- 
tached to the merry girl, and the old man had seemingly 
forgotten long ago that she was ^Vhite-faced, and couldn’t 
lift nothin’,” and now they sincerely regretted her leaving 
them. 

’Pears jes’ like she was our own an’ belongs tu us,” 
she remarked to a neighbor, who had heard the news and 
come in to see for herself, “though in course we could never 
raise anything with sich a sweet, purty face as hern is.” 
After Miriam had drunk the “soothin’ tea” she gradually 
sank into a deliciously drowsy, happy condition, half 
^waking, half sleeping, in which she realized without effort 


51 


The Capture. 

that the lamp was burning, its light carefully shaded from 
her eyes, and that her faithful old nurse was sitting by 
her bed through the long, silent night. Sometimes she 
was just conscious that the wrinkled fingers touched her 
hair or forehead as she gently lifted or laid a cool wet 
cloth on the hot, suffering temples. 

It was a homely, loving picture, which she treasured in 
her memory all her life. 


52 


The Old House by the Sea. 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE JOURNEY. 

That night, while Miriam was in this dreamland of 
rest, happy Earl Brandon was speeding away to his distant 
home to make the necessarily hasty preparations for his 
sisteEs imaginary visit to the country, and also to coach 
her in the part she was to act, and not betray his little 
deception. Although Miriam did not at any time sleep 
soundly, yet she was greatly refreshed, and felt decidedly 
better than she had since her illness. Late in the after- 
noon Earl and his sister arrived at the cottage. 

Miriam sat bolstered up in the big armchair when they 
entered, and Earl presented his companion as his little 
sister Grade. She beheld a lovely, innocent child in 
her rOafly teens, her silky blonde hair still waving loosely 
about her shoulders. She gave a wee mite of a hand 
to Miriam as she stood beside her chair, and said in a 
low voice, ‘T am so sorry you are ill. I wish I could do 
something for you. Brother Earl has told me all about 
you, and it would be a pleasure, I assure you, to do any- 
thing for you.” 

“Thank you,” said Miriam. “Every one is so kind to me 
here. They will never know how gratefully I appreciate 
their goodness.” 

“I thought, as we take such an early train, perhaps 
I could arrange your wardrobe in your traveling trunk. 
I am sure you do not feel strong enough, and Earl told 
me I must do everything I could for your comfort.” 

Miriam smiled at the wise but artless child. Evidently 


53 


The Journey. 

her brother embodied all that was perfect and noble in 
young manhood to this little sister. Miriam closed her 
eyes a moment to think. Gracie certainly could place her 
belongings in the small trunk as well as any one, if they 
were collected and brought from her room, and she did 
not wish to add one iota to the burdens the kind old dame 
was bearing so cheerfully for her sake, and who was even 
now out in the kitchen preparing the evening meal for 
her guests. She opened her tired eyes. The child was 
regarding her attentively. 

‘Tf you will, you may ask Mrs. Shelton if she will 
please come here a moment,” she said. Gracie flew on 
willing feet kitchenward, pleased to think she could be 
of service to her brother’s beautiful heroine, whose praises 
he had sung continually. The slow, weary footsteps drew 
near the wide, old-fashioned parlor, and Miriam re- 
proached herself for sending the message, knowing how 
many steps those poor, tired feet had taken for her in the 
last twenty-four hours. 

^^Did you want me, dearie ?” she asked, leaning over and 
taking the invalid’s dainty little hand in hers. 

Miriam grasped the wrinkled palm in her soft clasp. 
^‘Dear Mrs. Shelton,” she said, ^^my few things need pack- 
ing in my trunk, to be ready for to-morrow’s departure. 
I know you are nearly worn out with watching and wait- 
ing on me. I thought this young girl could get them 
ready, as I am not able to do it myself, and you know we 
leave on such an early train in the morning there will be 
no time then?” 

^^Yes, dearie, I know it,” she replied in a sad tone. 
^^You will not be with us very long now, an’ sorry I am 
fer it, too, fer ye hev grown to be awful dear tu an’ old 
woman’s heart, an’ I shell miss ye, oh, how I shell miss 
ye when ye are gone fer sure ! But the little time ye are 
here I want to du all thet’s tu be done fer ye. So if ye 
be willin’, let me fold the things and put ’em away my- 
self. I will bring them down in this room, so ye can see 
it done.” 

^^Dear, kind heart,” Miriam replied, with the tears she 
could not repress welling up in her beautiful eyes, ^^you 


54 


The Old House by the Sea. 

sliall have your way in all things connected with me while 
I am here.” 

The through train would pass through the Cut at an 
early hour in the morning, but our travelers were ready 
and waiting for it. 

Earl and his sister enjoyed the walk in the refreshing 
dewy morning, from the village of Walton, where they 
had passed the night, and joined Miriam at the cottage 
to assist her over to the little station. She was extremely 
weak. Her faithful nurse accompanied them to the plat- 
form, where the ponderous train awaited orders. Miriam 
hade adieus to all, but turned to the old lady last, who 
seemed to cling to her with genuine regret. She threw both 
warm young arms around her neck, kissed her wrinkled 
cheek, and her toil-worn, faithful hands were the last of 
the group she held. As she clasped them both she assured 
her she would never, never forget her as long as she lived, 
and some day when she was strong and well again she 
would come out for a visit and stay a week or two. 

^^All aboard,” came the loud, hoarse order, and the old 
baggage-master literally lifted the slender girl in his 
arms, carried her into the car and set her gently down 
in a seat. They both stood looking after the train as 
Miriam fluttered her handkerchief out of the window, and 
the last glimpse she had of the dear old woman, she was 
wiping her tearful eyes on the corner of her check ging- 
ham apron. We will pass over the commonplace incidents 
of the journey, the constant, watchful tenderness and un- 
obtrusive attention of Earl Brandon, and the cheerful 
chatter of his childlike sister. Miriam thought it ad- 
visable before starting to dispatch a line to Aunt Pam that 
she was coming, fearing that her invalid appearance would 
prove too much of a shock to her aunPs nerves; so when 
the handsome, stylish turnout containing the three stopped 
at the door Earl took in all at a glance — the poor old 
cottage, the unthrifty farm, and the desolate look of every- 
thing around it. Aunt Pam came out on the porch with 
white cap, and snowy kerchief folded crosswise over her 
ample waist, with upraised hands, as she saw the elegantly 
dressed strangers. 


55 


The Journey. 

Earl lifted his hat as courtly as he would to a queen 
when Miriam’s weak voice presented her friends. After 
the poor girl was bolstered comfortably on the old-fash- 
ioned couch and Uncle Isaac had seen to the ^Uoss an’ 
kerridge” and Aunt Pam had insisted on their having the 
best the house afforded in the way of refreshments, though 
she whispered to Miriam, “that won’t be no great,” with 
a sigh of ineffable rest and peace she closed her great, 
restless dark eyes in the blessed sleep she so much needed. 
Then, while his sister volunteered to sit by her and fan 
the white face, Earl Brandon motioned the worthy couple 
out on the long, shady porch, out of possible hearing 
within, and gave them the details of the brave girl’s ex- 
perience on that storm and peril-ridden night of June 

— , 1878. Many times were their old heads shaken, 

many times were their old hands raised, many were the 
quaint exclamations that expressed their full appreciation 
of the danger and heroism of their petted darling. 

“But now she will get well,” Earl said in conclusion. 
“The whole and entire wish of her heart was to come 
home. She declared that out here, in the quiet of the 
place, with Aunt Pam’s tender nursing, she would soon 

recover. I don’t think she is threatened with a fever, 

or it would have developed ere this, but evidently it is 
utter exhaustion of nerves and complete physical prostra- 
tion, and for that perfect rest and quiet are absolutely 
necessary.” Then he arose. “I must return on the train 
this evening, and report for duty to-morrow, so I shall 
be obliged to say good-by. Here is a package you will 
please give Miss Percival when she awakes, after my de- 
parture,” and he handed wondering Aunt Pam a small, 
dainty square parcel. “Should she awake while I am here, 
wait a few moments, for possibly she might not feel 
inclined to accept. And now, Mr. Watson, I am sorry 
to trouble you to get the nag.” 

Uncle Isaac was thankful that he did not offer to ac- 
company him to the old “ramsheklety barn,” but, as he 
confided to Aunt Pam afterwards, ^Tie s’posed he was too 
citified and proud to do that, though to b^ §v{ye }i§ didn’t 
geepa a piite m' big feejin’,'^ 


56 


The Old House by the Sea. 

When Earl and his sister were ready, he went in alone 
and took one long, silent earnest look at the white, beau- 
tiful face and closed eyes, with a tense indrawn breath, 
as though he would remember that picture when every- 
thing else had faded from his memory. 

^‘Give her my adieus and tenderest regards,” he said, 
as he held the worthy couple each by the hand a moment. 
Then the glittering carriage rolled out of the yard. The 
little deceptive ruse on his part had worked well. He 
had seen the poverty and desolation that justified him in 
entering into the scheme to leave, somehow, the company's 
financial testimonial where she would have no opportunity 
to refuse it. But Earl Brandon was in love — hopelessly 
and incurably in love with the fair, sleeping girl he had 
left looking so white and frail that he wondered if he 
had looked his last upon her in this world. Whether 
she cared for him or not he could not tell; for she ac- 
cepted his attentions just as she did those of his sister 
or the old woman at the Cut — without, a tremor or a 
blush. It was late when she awoke from a long, dreamless 
sleep, much refreshed and something like herself, but 
it was not until the next day, when she was drawn out on 
the cool porch in the big rocker that Aunt Pam laid the 
parcel in her lap, wrapped as it was given her, in its soft 
tissue covering. 

‘‘There, my dear,” she remarked, “is suthin’ the hand- 
some gentleman told me tu give you arter he was gone fer 
good. He was quite perticlar I shouldn’t give it tu you 
afore he went.” 

Miriam recognized the square outlines at once, and her 
first indignant thought was, that she would not accept 
or even open it. Why had he so determinedly forced it 
upon her?” 

Her aunt stood by, wondering what the treasure could 
be and waiting for" it to be opened. 

“Did he say the company gave me this ?” Miriam asked 
at length. 

“No, he never said a word about any company. He 
only said ‘there is a little present for her. Don’t give 
jt till after I am gon?,’ ' 


57 


The Journey. 

!” Miriam smiled faintly. ^Terhaps it is a present 
from him. I will see.” She removed the dainty pink 
wrappings and unlocked the small ebony box with a tiny 
golden key fastened to it, and disclosed a lovely little 
watch set with pearls and diamonds, beautifully engraved, 
reposing upon a shining satin bed, with her name in the 
center case. Inside of the opening lid were these words, 
finely cut: slight token of appreciation of the heroic 

services of a brave girl. — Earl Brandon.” Beside it was 
a roll of bank notes of such large denominations as to cause 
them both to stare in wonder. A few lines accompanied 
them, saying: “This is not in any sense a gift, neither is 
it a foolish attempt to recompense you for your unparal- 
leled bravery and fidelity, against heavy odds, in the com- 
pany’s interests; for it is needless to say such a debt can 
never be paid. But a review of the books discloses the 
fact that your salary was not as large as we always accord 
an expert; therefore this is simply a restoration of the 
salary due you for valuable past services, which will be 
paid you hereafter, whenever you are sufficiently recovered 
to accept a better located office. — President and General 
Managers.” 

Miriam laid her curly head back on the white pillow 
on the chair and closed her eyes, while a deep flush burned 
in either white cheek. Worded in this way, how could 
she refuse it ? In fact, they had made it impossible for her 
to do aught but accept, unless she gave unwarranted of- 
fence in not doing so. “Call uncle,” she said faintly. 

“Isaac! Isaac!” screamed the old lady. “Where are 
you ?” 

Isaac stuck his head and ragged straw hat out of the 
barn door, and asked, “What’s wanted?” 

“Stop your putterin’ around there, and come here right 
away — quick !” He obediently made his appearance on 
the porch. “Look there,” said the sharer of his joys and 
sorrows, pointing to Miriam’s dress, on which were scat- 
tered the rich treasures which meant so much to them all. 
He stood speechless, recognizing the crisp new greenb^lcks, 
but not yet comprehending the situation. 

Miriam kaned forward and grasped a hand of each, the 


58 


The Old House by the Sea. 

old-time sparkle in her eyes, the crimson stain still in 
her cheeks. ‘‘Dear aunt and uncle,” she said, ‘‘see this 
money that has come to me honestly, though entirely un- 
expected. The company says it is unpaid salary due me 
long ago, but I don’t half believe it. I still suspect it to 
be a veiled present for that night’s work, but the way he 
has managed its disposal has left me powerless in the 
matter. 1 shall accept.” 

“How much is it?” gasped Uncle Isaac. 

“Enough to pay off the mortgage and the interest due 
on it, besides all the outstanding debts, and then have a 
good sum left over,” she replied. Then she held up the 
tiny little watch for his inspection. 

“Don’t drop it, Isaac,” anxiously put in Aunt Pam, as 
he took it in his clumsy fingers. But in his eyes was a 
faraway look. “The Lord be praised,” he exclaimed fer- 
vently, “if so be, little Myra, we can pay off the morgidge 
an’ be outer debt once more !” 

“We can,” said Miriam. “And now, uncle, I want 
you to go immediately, if you can, and bring Squire Whit- 
ing and the lawyer, and all the necessary papers here. I 
am going to have this mortgage removed, with the last 
dollar paid, before I go to sleep to-night. Who knows what 
might happen with this large sum of money in the house ?” 
she said excitedly. 

Aunt Pam turned to him. “Du jest as she says, Isaac, 
fer she is right when she says no knowin’ what might 
happen ’fore mornin’. ’Tain’t ten o’clock yet, an’ about 
the right time, I reckon, tu ketch ’em at hum, or in their 
orfice. Hitch up old Sorrel to the dimocrat waggin’ and 
go right off.” 

“Shall I change my shirt?” he asked, looking down 
at his faded gingham. 

“No, never mind your shirt,” she replied. “Every one 
knows you hereabouts. Put on your old coat and go 
rite along.” He went to the barn with a swifter stride 
than he had been known to have for more than twenty- 
five years, while Miriam put every precious note back 
in the jewel case for safe keeping. Then the excitement 

of tJJO next }iQnr! Miriaro gonW aearcely cnrij i®. 


59 


The Journey. 

patience. The feverish nervousness had lent her new 
strength. She never knew she could be so strongly moved. 
Here was the cherished dream of her life about to be real- 
ized — the one subject over which she had pondered and 
planned and hoped so much. Oh, nothing must happen to 
disappoint them now. Aunt Pam was only a little more 
composed herself. They sit and talk and plan, and strain 
their eyes, looking far down the road to see old Sorrel 
coming, and hear for once the welcome clatter and squeak 
and multitudinous groans of the rickety old wagon. At 
last they are rewarded by a sight at which under other 
circumstances our heroine would have been convulsed. 
Poor old Sorrel has all he can draw. Sitting in state 
is Lawyer Brown; by his side is Squire Whiting, wearing 
the antiquated white hat which he always wears on strictly 
great occasions; standing up behind them, in the vehicle, 
is Uncle Isaac, with the lines held high over their heads, 
guiding and urging on old Sorrel, who was not in any 
hurry, and crouched in the bottom was a neighbor, pick- 
ing his teeth with a straw, whom Isaac, with a peculiar 
wink, had invited in somewhere along the road. After 
the usual salutations they all filed solemnly into the par- 
lor, where the papers were produced on both sides and 
read aloud, receipts acknowledged, the money counted out 
for both interest and mortgage, then the money changed 
hands, new receipts were signed, and they took their de- 
parture. 

^T’m a witness to that ^ere,” said the neighbor, with 
a squint, as he lagged behind the others a moment before 
he shambled off. 

Then they all breathed free once more. 

^^Uow, uncle, I want you and aunty to make out a list of 
the debts you owe, and the names and amount of each 
creditor, and this very afternoon pay each one his entire 
bill and get a receipt in full for the respective amounts. 
While the money is here I am going to have it applied 
where it will do the most good,^’ said Miriam. 

^That’s business,” said Aunt Pam. ^^Besides it will git 
noised round that we’ve got a little money in the house, 
an’ maybe it won’t be safe. Ye know the door^ js go qI^ 
(ind ehackly thejr don’t ’mount to mncb!’' 


60 


The Old House by the Sea. 

“Hedn’t we better hev a little suthin’ tu eat, fust?” 

suggested Uncle Isaac. 

“Oh, no! Don’t stop for dinner now,” urged Miriam. 
“Go, while old Sorrel is still harnessed, and pay the last 
remaining debt, and then we will all sit down to the best 
dinner we ever ate in our lives.” 

Then the old couple helped each other in remember- 
ing their entire indebtedness to others. There was the 
store and grocery bill; the shoe debt; the seed potatoes of 
Farmer Jones; so much for shoeing the old horse; and 
what he owed on last year’s fence rails. 

“But, child, it ain’t right to take 'the last cent you’ve 
got to pay my mis’able debts.” 

“I am only too happy to help you, uncle. A larger debt 
than this is the one I owe you and Aunt Pam for shelter- 
ing me when a helpless, friendless child, and caring for 
me all these years. Now, uncle, you take this money,” 
handing him a roll of bills, “and square up all around, 
and we will be the happiest family in the all the wide uni- 
verse to-night, with the mill-stone of years off our necks.” 

“And, Isaac, stop an’ git a roast o’ beef an’ some tender 
steak at the market when ye git through, an’ hurry back, 
fer I think Myra ortu hev suthin’ more nourishin’ tu 
give her strength than what we’ve got in the house now.” 

Once more the old horse was turned villageward, on the 
pleasantest errand he had gone on for years, with the 
exception. of the one of an hour or so before. When some 
expressed surprise how he had “made a raise” of so much 
money, he simply said: “My little Myra aimed it a-tele- 
grafin’, and it’s een-amost took the last cent she’s got, I 
’spect.” 

“Now, aunty, you get a good dinner for yourself and 
uncle, when he comes, and I do believe I could eat a 
little too.” 

“Aunt Pam’s sick darling shall have the best and 
daintiest thing I can cook, and the best of everything I can 
do for her, all my life,” and she kissed the white cheek, 
and left a tear there too. 

Just then the unmistakable rattle of the old wagon 
was heard at the door, and Uncle Isaac came in with a 


The Journey. 61 

happy, beaming face, and his arms full of purchases which 
he deposited on the table. 

'^It didn^t take all the money, little girl,” he said, ^^fer 
they throw^d off some fer cash, an’ so I just got these 
sweet taters, an’ lemons an’ oranges fer you, an’ here’s 
the rest o’ the money,” and he handed it to her. 

'^Give it to aunty. She will know what to do with it 
better than I.” 

A happier family could not have been found than the 
one that gathered around the late dinner table that day. 

^^Now,” Uncle Isaac said, ^‘1 kin work ag’in, with some 
hope o’ gitten along, sense that ’ere everlastin’ mill-stun 
is gone; an’ another thing I’m detarmined on duin’, an’ 
that is, ril Tceep out er debt/' 

That night, after the eloquent and very fervent offer- 
ing of thanksgiving and praise had been sent to the throne 
of grace for the gracious and unexpected mercies of that 
day, Miriam said, as she lay down in the little bed of her 
childhood, in her own room: Aunty, I do believe I shall 
get well now, I am so happy.” 

^^So you shall, dearie. Do nothing all the time now, 
child, but git well an’ be happy. That’s jest what I 
want.” 


62 


The Old House by the Sea? 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE FALSE TELEGRAM FROM AUNT PAM. 

Though Miriam^s illness did not develop into a settled 
fever, yet it was a baffling case of extreme nervous prostra- 
tion — unnatural excitement one day, succeeded by depres- 
sion the next. The crimson bloom of the rose would 
deepen on her cheek one day, to be succeeded by the lily 
the next, and in this way more than a month went by, with 
the tenderest care, most devoted attention, and encourag- 
ing, loving words from both the dear old people, and then 
there was a decided and rapid improvement. One day she 
answered one of Earl Brandon’s many kindly, sympathetic 
letters, and informed him she would report very soon for 
another office. In one of his letters he mentioned the 
postponement of the trial of the criminals, on account 
of the nines of the principal witness against them, which 
of course meant her. She did not meet with the slightest 
opposition in securing the office which was promised by 
the company when she was sufficiently recovered to take 
one. 

One warm bright morning she took her seat in the groan- 
ing, protesting old wagon, she inwardly hoped for the last 
time, and was driven to the depot, accompanied by both 
the old people, to see her departure for the city, where 
once more she would resume the duties of her chosen pro- 
fession. It was not her former office, but one equally as 
pleasant, in another part of the city, with an increase of 
galary. After she had heea domiciled in her oIBco a few 


The False Telegram from Aunt Pam. 63 

days she was notified that the trial of the criminals, cap- 
tured at the Cut, would occur very soon in the court that 
was then convening, and she would be required to appear 
at the appointed time to give her evidence. It caused her 
heart to beat a little faster with dread to think of meet- 
ing again those desperadoes, who had made that night a 
memory of ineffaceable horror for the rest of her natural 
life. But with her health she had once more regained her 
natural coolness and mental equilibrium, and knowing 
she could state the facts as they occurred she endeavored 
to let the fact disturb her as little as possible. The few 
weeks in the pleasant quiet of that country home had been 
extremely happy ones to Miriam. She would never forget 
the perfect content and blissful rest she experienced, with- 
but a wave or ripple of inharmony to break the spell. She 
had been so homesick for a long time to go out to the 
sunny farm and the loved ones, and when the way had been 
opened, even through peril, it seemed to her that her prayer 
was answered. Now that she was well again how much 
more she was resolved upon doing for them. She was 
very happy, and every day she entered upon her work with 
renewed hope and earnestness. Court had set, and the 
trial of the wreckers might be called at any time. 

It was the close of an exceedingly warm day. Miriam^s 
duties were done, and she was momentarily expecting her 
assistant to put in an appearance. While she was wait- 
ing she heard her name called over the wire. Wonder- 
ingly she answered. Then came the strange words: 

^^Your aunt is very ill; come at once. Will be met at 
station by a neighbor.^^ 

The first reading filled her with unspeakable anguish, 
and the one thought uppermost in her mind was to fly to 
her aunt instantly. Then came an unaccountable impres- 
sion, that forced itself upon her without any thought or 
will of her own, an unseen or unheard warning, which 
said as plain as words could, ^‘Beware ! You are going into 
danger ! Your aunt is not ill. This is false She hesitated. 
Even then she reproached herself for her seemingly cruel 
indecision. ^^This is nonsense,’’ she finally decided. ‘T 
must be getting nervous again. There is no tangible rea- 


64 


The Old House by the Sea. 

son why I should doubt the genuineness of this message. 
Dear Aunt Pam ! I will go at once” Then that strange 
warning took stronger possession of her than ever. She 
could not shake it off, so she turned to the table, and left 
this written message, addressed to the night operator; 

^‘1 am suddenly and unexpectedly called to the sick bed 
of a dear relative. If you do not hear from me or see me 
within two days, have the proper authorities investigate, 
for I have an indefinable feeling that this message is 
crooked” 

Then she enclosed the telegram inside her note, and 
laid it on her desk, for she would wait no longer. She 
closed the office door, and without the delay of going to 
her boarding-house she hastened to the depot, and was soon 
speeding out in the desolate night in the direction of the 
little farm. 

At one of the side stations at which the train stopped 
she noticed that a slim, undersized man entered the car 
in which she sat, and after scrutinizing the passengers in 
a doubtful manner he advanced and took a seat directly 
behind her. The hour was late, and the few travelers pres- 
ent were nodding, or already in the land of dreams, and 
the matter of exit or entrance was of small importance to 
them. But to Miriam, with her mind full of conflicting 
emotions, every incident was impressed more or less upon 
her mind. She noticed the peculiar, furtive, searching 
look he gave her over the sleeping assembly, and the appar- 
ently satisfied expression that seemed to light up his thin, 
dark face when his eyes rested upon her. Then the incident 
passed from her mind and her thoughts returned to the 
graver subject, ever uppermost — the unaccountable and 
suddenly dangerous illness of her aunt. Only two days 
ago she had received a letter in her aunt^s own peculiar 
cramped writing, and she was certainly well then ; and now 
in a few short hours she was seemingly at death’s door. 
She could not understand it; and the more she thought 
about it the stronger grew her conviction that the message 
was false. It was too late now, but she regretted that 
she had not waited long enough to do a little investigat- 
ing before she entered so hastily upon this long journey. 


The False Telegram from Aunt Pam. 65 

Then like a flash came the words of the gypsy fortune 
teller, of a long, lonely journey to a far country, in the 
night, and all the other perils she had predicted. She 
wondered if after all there was any truth in the tragic 
revelations. While she wondered in a vague way a strange 
drowsiness seemed to creep over her. She had not felt the 
least inclination to sleep until now, as her anxiety for her 
aunt had kept her thoughts so occupied that rest was 
driven from her. But a strange, sweet, subtle aroma 
seemed to envelop her. Coming from some unknown source 
she knew not where, it slowly settled upon her and gradu- 
ally took possession of her senses ; when she strove against . 
this soft, slumberous feeling, when she tried to rouse her- 
self, lest she should not hear the usual call when she 
reached Hallam station, she found she was utterly unable 
to act. She did not lose entire consciousness, but she 
realized only as in a vivid dream. She sat there naturally 
enough, with her head reclining against the back of her 
seat. Her stupefied state would not attract any one. In 
a vague way she knew she was not asleep ; and in the same 
inert sense she knew that some undue influence had re- 
duced her to this inactive state. Yet she was fully aware 
that, strive as she might, she could no longer shake off this 
lethargy that was benumbing all her faculties and, oh, 
horror ! she no longer had any desire to do so. The con- 
ductor took the ticket held in her passive hand; the next 
station was Hallam, where the neighbor was to meet her. 
Then she wondered in a half troubled way if she would 
be too helpless to get out of the car when the train 
stopped. 

At last Hallam was announced ; mechanically she made 
an effort to rise. Somehow it did not surprise her that 
a hand took her arm, or that a man, with the air of a pro- 
tector, should walk beside her and help her off the train. 
It all appeared to her, in a dim, hazy way, that it was ex- 
pected, and so was right. But few passengers alighted. 
It was twelve o’clock; a closed carriage stood at one side 
in the shadow. The gruff voice of her conductor said, 
^This way, miss,” as she made what seemed to her a most 
desperate effort to enter the little waiting-room — ^her will 


66 


The Old House by the Sea. 

power was trying to assert itself. She was given no time 
to find out who her conductor was, or if he was the neigh- 
bor her uncle had sent, for she was quickly hurried along 
to the carriage, where she dimly saw another man. 

‘‘Is she all right she heard him ask the other. 

“Yes,” was the reply. 

“Pretty well managed, I think.” 

“Yes,” again was the reply. 

Then she was lifted and put inside, the door closed with 
a bang, one man mounted the seat, while the other sat 
opposite her, watchful, but silent as a sphinx, while she 
was being rapidly whirled away, — where, oh, where ? 
After that she could form no idea of time. It might be 
two hours, it might be four — it might not be more than 
one — her brain was not clear. Her companion did not 
epeak, and her paralyzed faculties resisted all efforts at 
speech on her part. But of one thing she was positive; 
she was not being taken to the old farm. The distance 
was very short, and only a few moments would be re- 
quired in driving there. Oh, how she tried to speak, 
to break the benumbing fetters and ask some questions 
of her abductor, who sat like a black, silent statue in 
one corner. While it was still dark, with that solemn hush 
over all the sleepy world, the carriage came to a sudden 
stop. As she was assisted out she could see the dim out- 
lines of a great many trees, but silence and darkness 
seemed to reign over the place. Then some one appeared 
with a lamp whose flashes illumined from one side only, 
lighting objects on which its strong rays fell directly, 
leaving weird shadows and darkness behind. She heard 
a woman’s voice asked: 

“Have ye got her?” 

And the same gruff voice answered as before, “Yes! 
Yes! Of course. Don’t you see?” 

She felt herself pushed along a few steps in the direc- 
tion of the light, and by a supreme effort she regained her 
voice sufficiently to ask where they were conducting her. 

“Oh, you have found yer tongue, hev ye? Well, never 
ye mind where we be taking you to. Be thankful ve are 
alive.” 


The False Telegram from Aunt Pam. 67 

^^But I insist upon knowing where I am, and who you 
are, and why you have brought me here?” 

‘‘Oh, ye do, do ye? Well, when ye find out, let me 
know, will ye ?” 

Then she realized she had entered a dark, rocky place, 
and was descending some rude, uneven steps, still being 
half led, half dragged along by her rough companion, while 
the outlines of a woman preceded them with the strange 
light. “But I have a right to know what place this is, 
and by whose authority 1 have been brought here against 
my will,” she again protested. 

“I advise you to take care of your sassy tongue, miss, or 
you may fare worse,” he answered. 

They emerged from this long rocky passage, and entered 
an equally large rock room. It was rudely fitted up, with 
an attempt at comfort, as a living place. The skins of 
wild animals were spread on the stone floor ; and the same, 
with the addition of large, handsome rugs, were fastened 
against the rocky walls. This cavern seemed to be na- 
ture’s veritable handiwork, and from it ran still another 
small passage or entry, which, like the first, opened into 
another of smaller dimensions. 

After Miriam entered this cave, which was accomplished 
by being so suddenly and unexpectedly thrust in by her 
uncouth guide that it was a wonder that she retained 
her equilibrium, when her eyes had become accustomed 
to the glare of many lamps, known as burglars’ dark lan- 
terns, which were hung around the place, then she realized 
in all its horror that she was held a prisoner in this 
rock-bound haunt of desperate outlaws, and for what? 
What would they eventually do with her? Murder her? 
She could gain no information from either the wrinkled 
old hag, or the dark browed, evil looking fellow who called 
her mother, and who had conducted her thither. 

They two seemed to constitute the gang that night, or 
rather morning, for the driver did not enter, and Miriam 
remembered her despair at hearing the retreating rumble 
iof the departing wheels. 

For a few moments she sat there in speechless fear and 
eyed her tormentors ; and they, in the same silent manner. 


68 


The Old House by the Sea. 

but with evident enjoyment at her misery, sat and stared 
at her. Finally she asked in as steady a tone as she could 
command ; 

‘^Why have you brought me here, and what have I done 
to merit this treatment? What are you going to do with 
me, now that you have me so completely in your power 
Anything more you can think of all at once?’"’ said 
her captor. there is, why, fire away; but ye ain’t 
likely to find out till to-morrow. And then, maybe you’ll 
wish you didn’t know, when Cap gits here to tell you.” 

Miriam looked at the old woman, but she might as 
well have expected sympathy from the rocky sides of the 
cavern. She was busily engaged in placing some cold 
food on a broad box which served the purpose of a table, 
then she motioned the man and Miriam to partake. But 
poor Miriam had no desire for food. The ominous words 
of the man had filled her with a horrible, unspeakable fore- 
boding, a fear of nameless possibilities, from which death 
would be far preferable. 

Perhaps, too, death would be her fate in the end, by 
slow starvation, or torture in various ways which her 
lively imagination could conjure up. Blessed daylight 
was flooding all the beautiful world outside, but of which 
they had no knowledge in the cave, when the old woman 
conducted Miriam to the inner room. 

This, Miriam thought, must be the private sanctum of 
the chief. But she was speedily informed that it was the 
old hag’s sleeping apartment and she was expected to 
occupy it with her. Miriam shrank with a strong disgust, 
which she did not try to conceal, when she received this 
delectable information. Like the first, this room was 
hung with skins and covered with rugs, and a large im- 
ported rug, serving the purpose of a drapery, hung in the 
termination of the short passage, while near by was a 
rudely constructed couch also covered with woolen rugs 
and costly furs. An earthen wash-bowl, for the con- 
venience of the occupant, completed the furnishing of 
the room. The wash-bowl was evidently a superfluous 
ornament as far as use was concerned, by the amount 
of dust in the bottom and the looks of the old woman’s 


The False Telegram from Aunt Pam. 69 

hands. Miriam looked at the couch, then at the old hag, 
and the possibility of the numerous creeping inhabitants 
that couch might contain, and the undesirability of sharing 
it with her, anyway, was too much for her fastidious 
taste. 

had rather sit here all night,” she said, in answer to 
the order to go to bed. don^t want to sleep with 
you.” 

‘‘Wall, set thar, then,” growled her companion. “I 
dunno ez I want ter sleep with yer, nuther, fer I’m mighty 
pertickler who I take into bed, I kin tell yer that. But 
ef ye think yer kin git away, by pertendin’ to set thar, 
yer air greatly mistaken, I kin tell ye that, fer my boy 
Pete, he sets thar too, an’ yer can’t git out — see ?” 

Upon the delivery of this venomous remark the dumpy 
old bit of slovenly humanity rolled into the depths of the 
furs and blankets with many a grunt and groan of ex- 
treme satisfaction, without removing her outer garments, 
not even her slipshod shoes, and was soon snoring loud 
enough, Miriam thought, to make fissures in the rocks 
around them. She never passed such a wretched night in 
all her life. Even her experience at the Cut was paradise 
compared to this. That was of short duration, but this — 
when would it terminate — and how? These torturing 
questions, with their impossible answers, almost frenzied 
her brain. 

She knew now the meaning of the pretended telegram, 
and she realized only too well the awful trap it had led 
her into. And that strange, sweet aroma — it must have 
been administered by the villain who sat behind her. That 
much of the strange enigma she could readily solve. But 
why was she held a prisoner ? What crime had she com- 
mitted ? What possible wrong could they produce against 
her innocent 3^oung life ? In those dread, silent hours her 
whole existence passed like a shifting panorama before her. 
She could see nothing that could bring the slightest re- 
proach or disgrace upon her. The only solace she had iii 
these torturing thoughts was that the night operator would 
at once report the contents of her note and start an investi- 
gating party out to find her. 


70 


The Old House by the Sea. 


CHAPTER IX. 

ARRIVAL OP THE GANG. 

How long she sat there she never knew, but it seemed 
ages. Sleep had not visited her eyes. Suddenly she be- 
came aware of the tramping of many feet, followed by ex- 
cited voices, and eager questions were asked and an- 
swered, but of which she could distinguish nothing, in the 
general babel on both sides. Then some one approached 
the curtained doorway. Miriam’s heart gave sl - tumultuous 
throb, and then seemed to stop beating, as with tightly 
drawn breath and terror-fascinated eyes she watched the 
large, coarse hand that clutched the drapery aside. A 
heavy voice called out, not unkindly: “Mother! Mother, 
come ! the captain’s here and wants a good meal.” Then 
to her inexpressible relief she heard the retreating steps. 

With many a yawn and groan and muttered exclamation 
the old dame rolled slowly out on the floor. Then as her 
small, beady, malicious eyes rested on the crouching flgure 
of the poor, frightened, uncomplaining girl, she gave vent 
to a harsh, chuckling laugh. 

“Wall! did ye sleep good? Was yer bed soft, an’ yer 
kiverin to yer liken? Even thet wuz too good fur ye. 
Sulkin’, hey? Won’t speak? Wall, maybe yer will be 
glad to, arter ye see the Capt’in, and hev to speak, or du 
wuss.” Then, with a malicious grin on her repulsive old 
face, she lifted the curtain and disappeared. 

Presently the aroma of coffee and the unmistakable odor 
of broiled meat greeted Miriam’s sharpened senses, and in 


71 


Arrival of the Gang. 

a dull, indifferent way she wondered where the cooking 
was done, as she saw no stove when she entered. But 
other and more important matters were occupying her 
mind; perhaps the captain referred to by her guards was 
among the arrivals, and would pass sentence upon her 
now. 

Whatever it was, she reflected, she would have to endure 
it; for she was only a helpless girl in the power of un- 
principled ruffians. She determined to make the bravest 
and best fight in defence of her life and her honor that 
she possibly could. 

It was not long before she was ordered out by the 
old woman. Slowly she arose and, pushing aside the rug 
curtain advanced toward the group of men sitting around 
the large box table, upon which a late meal was being 
placed. 

They were six as uncouth, brutal looking men as could 
well be imagined, and every one eyed her curiously as she 
stood silently before them. White even to the beautifully 
arched lips, her dark eyes looking larger and darker than 
ever, she bravely returned their scrutiny, glancing mutely 
from one face to the other, hoping to find one vulnerable 
to mercy or justice. Then the one who was addressed 
as Cap spoke: 

^^Wall, miss, how do yer like the siteration at which 
extremely brilliant witticism they all laughed. ^^So you are 
the gal that give our men away at the Cut, with yer nim- 
ble fingers, are you?^^ 

A light suddenly broke over Miriam’s mind. ^‘1 don’t 
understand you,” she answered. 

^^Oh ! ye don’t, hey ?” he answered sneeringly. ^‘'Wall, 
I’ll enlighten ye arter dinner. Set down thar, an’ grub 
with us; you’re welcome. Bill, give her the cushioned 
cheer.” 

Bill sprang up and gave her the box he was sitting on. 
Poor Miriam ! She looked at the grime-streaked hands 
that probably had not had a good wash for months. A 
tin basin of black coffee was placed beside her plate. The 
hot potatoes and broiled meat looked very appetizing but 
—and just then she glanced again at the grimy hands 


72 


The Old House by the Sea. 

that passed them, and shook her head. The bread cer- 
tainly was not manufactured there; it was evidently pro- 
cured at a bakery and brought, with other supplies, by these 
late arrivals. She thought she could venture on that and 
the coffee to appease the hunger that now assailed her. 
The men laughed and talked pleasantly with each other 
during the meal, but ignored their guest entirely, until 
it was over; then the captain of the gang addressed her 
again. 

Turning abruptly, he said: ^^You probably know that 
the men captured at Walton Cut through your handy 
maneuvering have been ^jugged up^ ever since, awaiting 
the evidence of one perticler witness ter testify aghn 
Ymr 

^^Yes.^’ 

“You know that Yre trial was to come off next week?’^ 

“Yes.^^ 

“Wall, that important witness never testerfied aghn 
’em yit, an’ we don’t mean she ever will. You see ye air 
in a tight place, an’ we don’t kalkerlate to let ye loose, 
till arter we git our men out, then ye kin skip as soon as 
ever ye like. But it’s likely yer tongue is as limber as yer 
fingers, and we don’t mean ye shall play us any more 
tricks. And now that ye know what ye’re here for, how 
do ye like the siteration?” 

“Can’t say that I like it at all,” slowly answered 
Miriam. 

“Wall, if ye had minded yer own bizness, an’ done as our 
leader tole ye to, ye no need to be here now. But it does 
beat all thunder how ye managed it, when ye was tied 
down hand an’ foot.” 

Miriam smiled faintly. “I only did my duty,” she said. 
“I would have been false to the high trust placed in me, 
false to my oath of office, false to myself and humanity, 
and an accessory to murder, had I kept silent and allowed 
that train with its precious freight of souls to go down to 
death and destruction, for the atrocious purpose of plunder 
which your leader intended.” 

There was a silence that was ominous. All eyes were 
fastened upon her, and mouths agape at her daring words. 


73 


Arrival of the Gang. 

Astonishment was clearly written on every face. Even the 
old hag paused in her slovenly work of dish-washing and 
looked at her. 

“Wall, by thunder ! ye air good mettle, an’ no mistake !” 
exclaimed the captain admiringly. “S’posin they would 
a-choked yer purty neck, as they sartinly would ef they’d 
a-knew whar yer lettle game was goin’ to land ’em ?” 

“Better lose one life, than many hundreds,” replied the 
brave girl. 

The members of the band looked at each other in as- 
tonishment. 

“Wall ! ye’re made o’ good stuff and no mistake, — far 
too good fer a gal. Pity ye ain’t a man ; ye would ’a’ made 
a good burglar, or a night agent.” 

The despairing, heart-sick girl felt no pride in this 
dubious compliment. As she remained silent he added 
the balance of the information. 

“Wall, here ye air, an’ here ye will stay, whether ye 
like it er not, till the siteration of our mates in the jug is 
changed a bit. Ye see ye air too dangerous to let ye go 
yit; ye will hev enough to eat an’ drink, such as ’tis, an’ 
nothing ter do but keep a civil tongue in yer head. No 
harm shell happen to yer here; ye will be treated ez one 
o’ the fambly, an’ ’taint no fault o’ ourn ef ye ain’t jes' 
perfec’ly happy an’ comf’able. Now, ole woman,” he said 
turning to her, “ye had a good, long sleep, so Pete says — 
now ye kin watch the gal while we stretch out. We had 
a hard night of it, an’ little plunder, an’ we’ve got a worse 
night afore us when it comes again. Come, boys.” 

They needed no urging to drop down on the warm fur 
skins, wrapping some around them, and by their heavy 
breathing, freely interspersed with snorings in different 
keys, Miriam consluded they were in that enviable condition 
that their leader’s words described — “jes’ comf’able an’ 
happy.” This, then, was the cause of her abduction; to 
be forcibly prevented from giving evidence against the 
criminals who were members of this band. Oh, why did 
not the authorities rally, and investigate the cause of .her 
absence, as she had left a request for them to do, on that 
unlucky day of the telegram ? If they were searching for 


74 


The Old House by the Sea. 

her, she wondered, was this place so remote from the in- 
habited centers and so hidden from observation that they 
would never be able to find her ? Or, was she, in her im- 
patience, not giving them time? Yet she caught in the 
fragmentary words of their conversation the fact that search- 
ing parties were organizing all over the country to find | 
her, and that great excitement prevailed everywhere, over 
her mysterious disappearance. She laid her weary head 
on the table, pillowed on her hands; her brain was busy 
with tiresome conjectures. Escape was impossible as 
long as a man was faithfully guarding the door; she 
might be desperate enough to measure her strength with 
the old woman, but with a man it would be worse than 
useless. Every feasible plan was dwelt upon that sug- 
gested itself to her mind, but she could grasp none as 
being safe of execution. She was suddenly aroused by an 
excited stir around her; she raised her head and rubbed 
her eyes. She would not have believed it possible, under 
the circumstances, but she had actually been asleep for 
a long time — the old hag, too, although she had been left 
in strict charge. Except for her unnatural, cramped posi- 
tion, Miriam felt better — her head was clearer, and she 
felt refreshed. The men were getting ready for their usual 
dark night work, and the old crone was again preparing 
the meal. Miriam heard them deliberately making theii: 
plans and giving directions to Pete. He was to remain 
on guard that night, and if they did not make their ap- 
pearance in the morning, nor an hour or two later, he was 
to go to the old lightning blasted elm, which was quite a 
distance from the cave, and bring home the plunder, which 
he would find concealed in the hollow at its base; also to 
reconnoiter the country with the field glass, and if any- 
thing of a dangerous or suspicious sign was discoverable, 
to give the signal, by fastening a small white cloth to one 
of the high dead limbs. But if the coast was clear they 
would come home at the usual time; then they departed. 
The night passed as the night before. Miriam got what 
sleep she could, sitting on the box in the corner. Pete 
and his mother (on strict surveillance) were asleep also, 
and their musical snoring was enough to wake the dead of 


75 


Arrival of the Gang. 

past and gone generations. But the desperadoes did not 
put in an appearance in the morning, nor through the day. 
Then Miriam saw that Pete and his mother were very 
much excited. He had made two trips to the old tree, 
but told his mother there was nothing there, nor any in- 
dications suggestive of danger to warn them away, and yet 
they did not come as expected, that night, though both sat 
up and waited anxiously for them. When morning came 
they were much alarmed. 

Miriam overheard Pete tell his mother in a stage whisper 
that he wished they had never brought the devilish huzzy 
there, and his mother agreed with him, in the same sweet 
language. 

After dispatching a hasty meal he said he would go 
out once more and look over the country with a field glass, 
and also to see if there was anything secreted, or any warn- 
ing given. The day passed slowly. It was late in the 
afternoon, yet he did not return. The old crone paced the 
floor in visible anxiety, until the sun was getting low, 
then she informed Miriam that she ‘Vas goin^ to look for 
her boy, er find the gang.^’ She said she knew their other 
rendezvous, and if she couldn’t find Pete, she would go 
there. 

‘^Oh, don’t leave me here alone,” the poor victim begged, 
as she saw her bring out a long, but strong chain, one 
end of which she secured to a ring in the stone floor, fas- 
tening the other end around the slender waist of the de- 
spairing girl. Then she locked it and put the key in her 
pocket. 

Vainly Miriam pleaded: ^^Don’t leave me here alone, 
fettered and helpless,” for to her she was still a woman, 
and although a very disagreeable and repulsive one, yet 
her companionship was far preferable to being absolutely 
deserted in that awful place — perhaps left to die. 

‘^Humph! changed your mind all of a suddint, didn’t 
ye? Didn’t keer much about me afore ! Wall, my boy is 
more tu me an’ you air, an’ anyway, I am goin’ to find 
him, or stay till I du.” 

^^But what am I going to do here alone?” wailed Mir- 
iam. 


76 


The Old House by the Sea. 

kin du the best ye kin. Play with the rats, or what 
ye like — I don’t keer.” Then she lifted the casket of eat- 
ables she had made ready, and disappeared. Pen cannot 
describe the sense of utter desolation, despair and grief 
that took possession of our heroine. Must she be chained 
like a wild beast, and left to die in that obscure rocky 
prison, where no human eye would ever look upon her, 
and her friends would never know her fate? Some day, 
perhaps, a hunter would, by accident, find her skeleton as 
he pursued his game, but it would matter very little to 
her then. When she was more calm, she resolved to walk 
as far as the length of the chain would permit. She would 
know the extent of her freedom at any cost. 

She found to her joy that it reached to the outer entrance 
of the cavern, and she saw the blessed daylight once more 
and felt the pure air fan her pale face. She decided to 
stay there, for, if the night was chilly, the air was clean 
and wholesome, so she pulled down the heavy blanket 
from the entrance and, wrapping it around her, sat down 
in the fast closing twilight. She hoped, oh, so ardently, 
that the searching parties would find her to-morrow. 

Listening for the faintest sound of a footfall, wishing 
that even the cantankerous old crone would return, praying, 
despairing, believing, worn out with ceaseless and useless 
vigils, she at last forgot all her troubles in sleep. She 
awoke about midnight, and once more the horror of her 
position and awful fate took possession of her mind and 
kept her awake the rest of the night. 

At last the early sun’s rays began to pierce through the 
woodland gloom, and she was enabled to see for the first 
time since her captivity the outer world and her surround- 
ings. By observation gained from the limited length of 
her chain, it seemed to be a wild tangle of bush and briar 
and weed, growing in close proximity to the mouth of the 
cave. She wondered how their ingress and egress could 
be made through such a growth, for to any chance observer 
these thorny briars, and low, overhanging bushes had never 
been disturbed. Could the searching parties ever find her 
here? 

Clearly, now, the old woman did not intend to return. 


77 


Arrival of the Gang. 

and by all she was absolutely deserted. Again commenced 
her weary vigil of watching and listening, straining eye 
and ear for the relief she hoped against hope would come. 
The long hours rolled away. She struggled against the 
drowsy feeling that was again creeping over her, fearing 
that she would never be discovered unless she kept awake, 
and cried out in her agony to them. Yet with all her 
efforts nature asserted herself and her eyes closed in sound 
slumber. 

She remembered it was late in the afternoon when she 
became so drowsy, but it was almost night when she was 
awakened by something cold touching her warm face. In 
an instant she was awake and alert, and the first thing her 
eyes rested upon was the large, intelligent face of a huge 
Saint Bernard dog. When she opened her eyes and moved, 
his delight was unbounded. Up went her white young 
arms around his neck, as she kissed him and called him 
by every endearing name she could think of. 

^^My deliverer! Where did you come from? Is your 
master looking for me, and you came with him and found 
me first? You dear old fellow, if you could only get me 
loose from this and take me home with you! I am so 
tired staying here, but I canT get away. See, I am tied,” 
and she held up the chain. “1 am hungry, too. I am 
afraid I shall die here yet. Where did you leave the 
others? Were they looking for me and you strayed away 
from them ? Oh, how I wish you could talk, you old dar- 
ling!” to all of which the intelligent creature listened in- 
tently, tipping his handsome head on one side and then the 
other, as though he understood her perfectly; then he 
turned to go. But she clung to him with desperation. 
^‘Oh, donT leave me again in this dreadful place, so near 
night, too. Dear old fellow, do stay with me. See! I 
cannot follow you !” and again she showed him the chain. 
^^Do stay ! you are the only human being I have seen since 
coming here; donT leave me now.” He hesitated. The 
beautiful brown eyes looked humanely into hers. Then he 
gave a few low, short barks, licked her hands and face, 
and started off at a brisk trot. 


78 


The Old House by the Sea. 


CHAPTER X. 

HERO TO THE RESCUE. 

A PEW steps away he turned again, looked back, utter- 
ing those same peculiar barks, then disappeared, Miriam 
watching the big plumy tail waving out and in among the 
grand old trees until it and its beautiful owner were lost 
to view. Then the wretched, despairing girl sat down on 
the stone steps and, burying her face in her hands, gave way 
to such a paroxysm of grief as she had not shed since her 
father was laid away, amid the tolling of bells and chant- 
ing of the burial service, in the valley years ago. Very 
soon it would be dark, for night was fast approaching, 
and two hours had passed since her visitor had left her. 
She had dried her tears and looked the inevitable in the 
face, and was trying to make the best of it when she heard 
the snapping of twigs, and a slight rustling of the bushes, 
and looked up to see the honest old . Saint Bernard dog 
peering at her through the tangle, and the next moment, 
as she screamed with delight, he bounded forward and 
dropped a huge piece of fresh roasted meat, savory and 
brown, into her outstretched hands. Before she would 
take a mouthful she clasped her arms around his neck, 
laid her young face against his huge head and burst into 
tears. The faithful animal, that never forsakes a friend, 
that is ever loyal and true when all others fail, had come 
to her with substantial sympathy in this her hour of great 
need. Then she knew what those short, sharp b^arks 
meant; he was telling her that he would surely return, 
that she must understand and be patient. 


Hero to the Rescue. 


79 


^^You dear old fellow, you did not desert me, did you? 
I accused you unjustly, you noble creature. You are a 
true hero, and such should be your name. So you under- 
stood me when I told you I was hungry, and you went 
home to get this?^^ and she took the brown, crispy meat 
and began to eat with a relish. 

That the sagacious animal had stolen it, she knew just 
as certainly as though she had witnessed the act. The loyal 
creature sat beside her, his lovely head tipped on one side, 
his dark, bright eyes regarding her with a satisfied expres- 
sion while the meat disappeared, and she talked to him. 
It was now quite dark, with the deeper gloom of the woods 
added, and Miriam was in a fever of expectation that her 
one true friend would leave her again, to drag out another 
long and dreary night alone. But he showed no such in- 
tention; instead, he lay down close to her feet on a part 
of the blanket she spread out for him and, laying his huge 
head on his equally huge paws, he pretended to sleep, while 
Miriam petted and caressed him. 

The deep stillness of the night crept on, but he did 
not go; once, indeed, he raised his head quick, as though 
he detected a sound, and growled, then got up, stretched 
himself, and went outside a few steps, and lay down to 
watch, Miriam entreating him not to leave her. After a 
brief interval, apparently satisfied with his investigation, he 
came back and resumed his former position. Then, Mir- 
iam, confident of his protection under any circumstances, 
sank into a sound slumber. Again the rosy dawn was 
flushing all the dewy earth, when his cold nose touching 
her face awoke her the second time. Then he gave another 
series of short barks, which Miriam knew only too well 
was the prelude to his departure. But she now no longer 
despaired, for she knew that nothing so true and staunch 
as he had proved himself would fail her now, and she re- 
solved to put into execution a plan she had thought of 
after his last departure. Petting him to keep him quiet, 
she spread out her handkerchief as smoothly as possible 
and with the office pencil she had retained in her pocket 
she wrote this message : 


80 


The Old House by the Sea. 

“For the love of Heaven follow this noble creature and 
rescue me. I am chained in a cave and left to die. 

“Mikiam Peecival.^^ 

She folded the words in carefully, showed it to her 
deliverer, who touched it with his nose, and then she tied 
it securely to his collar. ^‘Now, you faithful friend,^^ she 
said, know you will soon leave me ; but I know also that 
you will certainly return again, and I want you to go to 
your master or mistress, rub against them, bark, follow 
them around, do everything you can, to show them what I 
have given you; try to tell them to look at your collar, 
and then they will come with you. Do you understand, 
you darling? He gave two short barks to indicate that he 
knew what was required of him. “Don’t you like to leave 
me?” He reached forward and licked her face. “You 
faithful creature ! but I am willing you should go now, 
because you will bring friends to break this” — and she 
again held up the chain — “and then I will go home with 
you. Yes,” as he barked again, “I will go home with 
you. Now, go, dear boy — show them your message, and 
bring friends.” 

Once more he barked, licked her face, raised one huge 
paw and laid it mutely in her outstretched hand, then in 
a flash he bounded out and was gone. Now hope, strong 
and reliant, sprang up within her. She knew that if her 
four-footed friend could attract attention to his collar 
(and she had no doubt that such superior intelligence as 
he possessed would And a way), she would speedily be 
rescued. For a while she waited very patiently, know- 
ing, whatever the distance, whether long or short, she 
must give him ample time to cover his journey both ways; 
and then she began to listen for the faintest sound of 
footsteps and to watch for the big, plumy tail waving in 
the far distance. It seemed longer than it really was, 
but it was afternoon before she saw the faithful fellow com- 
ing, and directly behind him, a tall, gentlemanly man, 
followed by another in the garb of a farmer. Their 
trusty guide bounded through the thicket, but they were 
obliged to pick their way with difficulty through the briars 


Hero to the Rescue. 


81 


to where the poor girl stood at the end of her chain. Their 
astonishment and indignation cannot he described when 
they saw the ignominious captivity of the beautiful girl, 
and learned in a few hurried words of her abduction, and 
who she was. It did not take long, either, to break the 
fastening in the floor to which was attached that end of 
the fetter; the part around her slim waist could be re- 
moved later. Then she was lifted over the tangled 
underbrush and, protecting her on each side, she was con- 
ducted a short distance, the tall gentleman explaining 
they had come in a carriage, but the undergrowth was 
so dense that they were obliged to leave it and walk. The 
delight of their guide was simply indescribable. He barked 
and jumped, and bounded and did everything but talk, to 
express his extreme joy at the satisfactory result of their 
little scheme. It was not until after they reached their 
destination, many miles away, through a crooked and 
circuitous route, the faithful animal always leading the 
way, before they at last emerged into the public highway ; 
not before Miriam had bathed, and partaken of a refresh- 
ing supper at the farmhouse of as kind a hostess as ever 
graced a table, that the history on both sides was re- 
lated. They told her of the searching parties that were 
out scouring all that part of the country, their numbers 
increased by ready volunteers among the farmers, her 
husband among the others; how their dog Bruce (which 
Miriam declared should be named Hero), attempting to 
follow his master, had been sternly bidden to return and 
protect his mistress, how he had absented himself during 
certain portions of the day, and how he had finally been 
caught stealing meat and quickly making off with it, a 
thing he had never done before, as he was well fed and 
cared for. It was such a strange performance that they 
concluded, if he attempted it again, they would follow 
and see if he was secretly feeding some sick or wounded 
canine, when he suddenly returned with the bit of hand- 
kerchief, and gave them no peace until they discovered 
it; then of course the mystery was explained. The Rev. 
Ernest Clifford, passing a vacation for needed rest at 
their country home, had, with the assistance of the hired 


82 


The Old House by the Sea. 

man, made the most hurried preparations possible to 
follow Brnce, who evinced the wildest excitement and 
impatience over every movement. The news was rapidly 
wired all over the country that the missing girl was found, 
and the manner of her discovery by the noble and in- 
telligent Saint Bernard. 

What all the searchers had failed to do he had accom- 
plished. Again Miriam was a heroine, far and near, 
and Hero (as he was now duly christened), came in only 
second, for his well-merited share of honors. The search- 
ers were called in by the excited news, and came straight 
to see her. Reporters from every direction besieged the 
farmhouse, to hear personally the wondrous tale, but all 
were doomed to disappointment, for Miriam Percival 
was raving in the wildest delirium of brain fever. 
The long tension and control to which her mind had 
been subjected had suddenly snapped, and now her reason 
hung in a very doubtful balance, even if she lived. Many 
long days she lay there tossing, and moaning, clenching 
her small hands in her soft curls, beneath which the fe- 
vered blood coursed like fire through her veins. She was 
entirely unconscious of the interest, the devotion and un- 
ceasing tenderness that was lavished upon her — the brave, 
beautiful heroine of perils that happen not often in a 
lifetime. She never knew how a tall, silent figure paced 
quietly, yet anxiously, beneath her curtained window night 
after night, listening to her incoherent ravings, or moans 
of pain, because his great love for the beautiful young 
stranger he had rescued had become the one absorbing, 
uncontrollable passion of his life; intensified even more 
within the last few days, because the eminent city physi- 
cian who had been sent for shook his learned head and de- 
clared her life hung by the merest thread. She never knew 
the agonized, unspoken prayers the young clergyman 
hourly offered that the precious life of this dear girl might 
be spared, because he realized now that all his future 
life would be a living blank to him and entirely unprofit- 
able to others, unless this guiding star of his young man- 
hood’s dream lived and he could woo and win her for his 
pwn. Hitherto, his life and thoughts had been devoted 


Hero to the Rescue. 


83 


to his divine profession, with no other love, no other de- 
sire. He had seen many fair women, pure and true, who 
would have willingly shared his lot and walked humbly 
by his side in his lowly life; but into his heart had never 
entered one partial thought of them. But this fair, sweet 
girl, this lovely, wilted, dying flower, almost on the border- 
land of the other world, he knew was the one love of his 
life. If his prayers were not answered, if the dear heart 
did cease to beat, if the white hands were folded cold 
and still at last, and the dark, curly head lay motion- 
less, with closed eyes — oh, merciful God, forbid ! — ^well, 
he would try to bear it; but life would be robbed of its 
zest and the world changed to him forever. How could 
he ever stand before his waiting congregation and address 
them in the thrilling eloquence attributed to him in the 
past ? How could he ever speak words of consolation and 
hope to the sick or dying, with the haunting memory of 
a pure, white face, a still form, and a little grave some- 
where? How could he exhort the stricken mourner to 
be obedient to the will of God, when his own heart ques- 
tioned and rebelled at the justice of the Eod that broke it? 
He could not ; and thus he fought the battle with himself, 
thus he prayed and wrestled, and would not be comforted, 
until his souks anguished appeal was granted, that the 
broken white lily in yonder sick room would be spared to 
him. 

A few of the searching parties, with detectives and offi- 
cers of the law, and the Eev. Ernest Cliflord, and Hero 
as guide, visited the cavern in due time, and found in the 
farther room, as Miriam had described, the greatest quan- 
tity of stolen goods of all descriptions. 

Imported rugs, furs, costly draperies, lace curtains, webs 
of cloth, whole pieces of dress goods of the finest quality, 
table linen, silverware, china, cutlery — in fact the supply 
seemed inexhaustible and comprised everything except 
furniture or anything of a cumbrous nature. There was 
no evidence that the inmates had ever returned, and though 
a vigorous and determined search was made, it resulted in 
a complete failure to find any of the criminals, or even 


84 The Old House by the Sea. 

unearth another secret hiding-place for their ill-gotten, 
spoils. 

The proper authorities took possession of the stolen 
property in the cave, and a few blasts of dynamite oblit- 
erated all semblance of the foul smelling place of Mir- 
iam^s recent captivity. And now it began to look as if 
the young clergyman's prayers were destined to be an- 
swered, for Miriam slowly improved, after the dreaded 
crisis in the fever had passed, and one morning she sat 
bolstered up in grandma's big armchair, out in the sunny, 
pleasant sitting-room, with grandma herself tenderly 
tucking the patchwork quilt around her and telling her 
^^she pieced it with her own hands for her darter mor'n 
twenty years ago last camp-meetin’ time.” Miriam was 
very weak, but oh ! so happy to be living — so inexpressibly 
thankful she was spared and on the way to recovery. So 
grateful to — yes, more than words could express or a life- 
time of gratitude repay — the kind, devoted ones who had 
so faithfully, so untiringly ministered to her in her dan- 
gerous illness. The always clear, colorless face was whiter 
than ever now; the thick mass of short curls she possessed 
before her sickness had been shorn, on account of the fever, 
and now soft rings of downy hair covered the graceful 
head, more becoming, if possible, than before. She looked 
very beautiful that morning, though very frail, as, smil- 
ing and happy, she sat there, receiving the hearty con- 
gratulations of the whole family, of course the Eeverend 
included, at this her first appearance among them since 
the night of her fever-stricken unconsciousness. It was 
Hero who received a more marked demonstration of her 
love than any one else; he was told in unblushing confi- 
dence, as he sat beside her with his big head in her white, 
delicate hands, and his great expressive eyes gazing into 
her beautiful face, that she loved him dearly and that he 
knew more than the President and his whole cabinet. 

That night, in the privacy of his own room, on his 
bended knees, with the tears of gratitude and thankfulness 
streaming down his handsome face, the devout young min- 
ister sanctified himself anew to the divine Eedeemer’s 


Hero to the Rescue. 


85 


service, with more earnest vows and stronger determina- 
tion than ever to walk loyally to the end in the path of 
his chosen profession, because he solemnly believed that 
He had granted his supplicating prayers for Miriam^s dear 
life. 


86 


The Old House by the Sea, 


CHAPTER XI. 

TKIAL OF THE WKECKEES. 

The court room, at the convening of the court for the 
special trial of the widely known train wreckers, was full 
to overflowing. 

Every one knew that the brave captive was to be pres- 
ent as principal witness, and all were anxious to obtain 
a glimpse of her and the noble Saint Bernard who ac- 
companied her everywhere, even to the witness stand. 
The robbers had been kept in durance vile, and the trial 
necessarily postponed awaiting Miriam’s delayed appear- 
ance, as her testimony was personal, and strong against 
them. The necessary preliminaries of challenging the 
jury was over, and each man sat solemnly facing the court 
ready to hear the evidence. Near them sat a quiet, elder- 
ly man faultlessly dressed, very prim and proper look- 
ing, who watched the proceedings with a critical eye and 
listened to every word with close attention. This was a 
case of more than ordinary interest, and its peculiar char- 
acter excited the curiosity of many persons from a dis- 
tance. When our heroine’s name was called there was a 
suppressed excitement among the crowd and an audible 
murmur as the pale, beautiful girl arose from a seat and 
advanced toward the witness chair, accompanied by faith- 
ful Hero. The judge and clerk looked in some surprise 
at first, but made no objection, recognizing in him the in- 
telligent animal who found her, and whose praises the 
press and people had sung from one end of the country 
to the other, and whose picture, in yarious sizes, was on 


Trial of the Wreckers. 


87 


exhibition in all the show windows all over the city. The 
stranger’s face was a study, as he leaned forward, his 
keen gray eyes fastened upon Miriam, while she gave her 
evidence in a straightforward manner, her clear, distinct 
tones plainly and easily heard. He listened as though it 
was of vital interest to him, and gave his entire attention 
to every question and answer ; and when she took her seat, 
with the crimson bloom in each fair cheek, caused by 
excitement, a profound silence reigned over the vast as- 
sembly. 

She had given, through rigid questioning on both sides, 
the entire story. The young superintendent, Earl Bran- 
don, and the officials corroborated the facts by the part 
in which they were active. 

At the hotel, after the long and tedious trial was over, 
Miriam was besieged by reporters for some extra items 
from her own lips for the press, but she refused to see 
them. 

But there were two persons to whom she accorded each 
an interview, after the railroad officials had taken her 
hand in a fervent clasp for a moment, and said what she 
prized more than words could express — viz., that not one 
in their employ, no matter what his position, was held 
in such high esteem, for marked bravery and faithful 
service, as herself. 

Then she had a long and friendly interview with Earl 
Brandon; and though she felt that this was not exactly 
the time or place to reveal his great love for the fair girl 
yet he knew that in many ways he had so plainly betrayed 
his preference for her that she could no longer be igno- 
rant of his feelings. When he at last made his adieus 
it was with a promise from Miriam that she would visit 
his family at Cameron Park in the early autumn — a prom- 
ise she fulfilled in the warm, sunny days that followed, 
for she nevermore held her old position at the little tick- 
ing instrument in any office. 

The next and last interview, was from the intensely 
interested stranger at the trial, and when he introduced 
himself he was no other than her eccentriq mcWn most 
qoofideptial legal adviser, 


88 


The Old House by the Sea. 

He told her he had heard of the celebrated case through 
the press, and he had resolved to come to the trial, hear the 
testimony himself, and see with unprejudiced eyes his old 
client^s niece, the wonderful girl over whom the world was 
raving. 

“What are you intending to do with the old house at 
Sandreve?^^ he asked after these introductory remarks, 
as they were seated in a quiet sitting-room. 

“I intend to investigate to the bitter end,’’ Miriam 
answered decidedly. “I am going to search out in the light 
of this nineteenth century all this horrible mystery of 
its being haunted, and find out what it is haunted with. 
Although I do not believe in any such foolishness as ghosts 
or ghouls, yet I reluctantly confess there is a state of 
affairs there that I cannot fathom, or explain, either to 
myself or any one else. The hamlet people cannot be 
mistaken, about seeing or hearing something uncanny. 
Even a detective that was sent down there came back 
frightened out of his wits, and would not return.” 

The lawyer’s fine eyes watched her expressive face, and 
he smiled. “Then you are not daunted? You are going 
through with a job that even a stout-hearted detective 
was afraid to attempt a second time ?” 

“I am going to penetrate the mystery, whatever it is, 
find out its cause and origin, if possible, and after dis- 
pelling the illusion and proving to the little world around 
it that all the silly jugglery that deceived them for years 
is done with forever, then I shall put it in the market 
to sell to the highest bidder. If my queer old relative 
left it to me to do as I willed with it, I propose to turn 
it to some account financially, for it is out of the question 
to retain it on my hands as repairable property, and 1 
very much need the money its favorable disposal would 
bring.” 

“Very sensible conclusion,” he remarked. “Then you 
are not afraid of the ghosts ?” he asked with a smile. 

“Not I ! I spent several days at Sandreve, soon after 
coming into possession of the ghost haunt, visiting it every 
day, and the tenants never disturbed me at any time. 
The location is fine, the surpunding country lovely, 


Trial of the Wreckers. 


89 


and the view from the cliff, over the sea, is enchanting. 
I went all over the old domain from garret to cellar in a 
general way. There were some rooms I could not open, 
some parts of the immense cellar I could not get a peep 
into, for heavy partitions, but I saw nothing that fright- 
ened me in the least.” 

^^What was your impression of the old place ?” he asked, 
still watching her face. 

^^Well, as I just remarked, the location is unrivaled, 
to any one who loves the ever restless waves and the 
moaning of the sea ; but what did impress me greatly was, 
that the owner and designer of the grand, but curious 
old house must have had a decidedly original and strangely 
creative brain, if that old pile, as it now stands, was the 
product of his individual fancy.” 

The old law}^er laughed. “Your impression and mine 
coincide,” he answered, “and yet it was built on a grand 
scale.” 

“You have seen it, then?” Miriam asked in surprise. 

“Yes, I was there some time ago. Its original owner 
must have had no end of money; but I can safely say it 
is the most oddly constructed piece of architecture that was 
ever inhabited. You say there were rooms you could not 
gain entrance to — ^why ?” he asked after a pause. 

“Well, they seemed strangely locked; even the keyholes 
were impenetrable,” she answered. 

“On which floor were they located?” 

“On the second floor, left wing.” 

“And the cellar?” 

“Yes, there were divisions, with strong doors, that 
baffled me; especially an iron door at one end, facing the 
sea. But I did not think that circumstance strange, as 
the fastenings would naturally succumb to the rusting 
and wasting of time and dampness all these years.” 

“And ycru felt no fear while exploring there alone, know- 
ing the uncanny reputation it had borne for years?” 

“No. I only felt a great curiosity, on the receipt of ypur 
letter, to see the ghostly incumbrance I had inherited and 
needing a rest, I combined the two in one trip,” she re- 
plied. ''It wm Piily when I heard the terrible stoiy from 


90 


The Old House by the Sea. 

tlie inn-keeper and his wife that I felt the first fear. But 
I will tell you what did excite my curiosity greatly, and 
does yet, and that is, — why was everything left in the house, 
as though the occupants had walked out, deserted the splen- 
did rooms, and deliberately left the gorgeous furnishings 
to the relentless ravages of time?^^ 

He looked at her earnestly. ^‘It is a strange story,” he ' 
said, “and one I think it is due you to know the exact de- 
tails of.” 

Then he gave her a long and interesting history of her 
ancestors, reaching back many centuries, as he had both 
heard and read from the compiled genealogical accounts 
of the family. “All this rubbish of the hamlet people 
about the grand old house being haunted is superstition 
born of their ignorance, fostered and nourished from re- 
membered facts, highly colored, since the original builder 
and owner had lived there with this beautiful but unfor- 
tunate wife.” 

He then proceeded to give her, in graphic detail, all the 
truth of the tragedy, and though horrible enough, yet it 
was the only one that had ever happened to any of her an- 
cestors. All the crime and curses and cruelty related to her 
by the inn-keepers was a gathered lot of garbled yarns, 
repeated year after year. 

An old sea captain who had cruised the salt water until 
he had arrived at the age of old bachelorhood, suddenly 
brought back with him from one of his voyages a young 
and very beautiful bride from the sunny land of Spain. 
The old gray stone mansion on the cliff was erected by 
him with a great deal of ostentation and pride, he sparing 
nothing to make it a dream of beauty and happiness, out- 
side and in. The furnishings were the finest and most 
costly that remote ages produced, and were the marvelous 
productions of foreign lands and looms. Jewels a queen 
might covet were lavished upon her, his lovely wife, the 
rarest and loveliest of his choice collections. And into this 
gorgeous palace he ushered his Spanish bride, with many 
servants. She had only to ring a tiny silver bell and her 
slightest wish was speedily gratified by a silent and obedient 
mmnli jjvcrytllihg to ^long sweetly mi. 


Trial of the Wreckers. 


91 


hamoniously for a while, the captain giving up his be- 
loved sea, to please his young girl wife, and she seemed 
to appreciate all his efforts to make her happy. But a 
rumor was circulated after a while, by the servants, that 
the brilliant and fascinating woman with her flashing eyes, 
raven hair, and smile so like an angehs, was possessed of 
the devil’s own temper when she chose to show it. 

It was hinted also by the maid whom she had brought 
with her from her own country, that the most violent in- 
sanity was hereditary in her family, and had been for gen- 
erations past; sometimes two out of every family in suc- 
cession would be marked with the fatal malady; then it 
occasionally happened, that in a group, only one would 
be affected, the others escaping to the end of their lives. 

The maid said often it had been the only and petted 
darling of the household, one on whom their choicest hopes, 
ambitions and blessings were centered, and that one had 
been doomed to spend the mature years of his or her life 
in a madhouse. At first there were only hints that the 
domestic life of the captain and his foreign wife was not 
sailing on the smoothest sea ; then high words were heard, 
expostulations and entreaties ; then a complete silence 
reigned for days, when the same scenes would be enacted 
again, only worse. 

After a while the captain, for a little peace and quiet, 
began to go off on his voyages again, and each absence 
was longer than the other. The servants used to dread 
these prolonged trips, because it left them entirely at the 
mercy of their beautiful insane mistress. Then one after 
the other would leave her service, and often he would come 
home and find no one left of the household but the foreign 
maid, the old housekeeper and her husband the gardener, 
and they threatened several times that even the ample 
salary they were receiving would not keep them, unless she 
^‘^mended her ways.^’ 

Then the poor old captain saw the stern necessity of either 
abiding there and taking care of her, or immuring herdn 
an insane asylum and closing the grand old house, built 
so recently with such flattering hopes of happiness. He 
naturally shrank from the latter course, and he strenuously 


92 


The Old House by the Sea. 

sought to conceal from the inhabitants the awful truth of 
his wife’s insanity. But it was too late. Already the 
whole hamlet knew it, and would look ominously at him 
whenever he appeared among them. Often he would walk 
along the sands, far enough out to be beyond the sound 
of her shrieks and demoniacal laughter. One dark, stormy 
night, when the pitiless heavens seemed to open and wreak 
their vengeance on the patient earth, when the wind raved, 
and the high sea lashed in foam against the jutting cliff 
and threatened dire destruction to the heavy stone wall, 
when he was completely worn out with unusually long and 
watchful vigils over her in that large room facing the 
sea, it was in utter exhaustion that he dropped into a 
sound and dreamless sleep for a few moments. Then she 
bent over him with her glittering eyes, muttering some- 
thing in her Spanish tongue and, gliding noiselessly to 
the window, crashed it and the sash in with one dreadful 
blow, and before fhe captain, who had instantly sprung to 
his feet, could arrest her intention, her lithe body had 
darted through the gaping aperture, and with flying feet 
was swiftly disappearing in the storm and darkness sea- 
ward. Of course the distracted captain and the servants 
followed with frantic haste, guided in the utter darkness 
by her insane and unearthly laughter; then a flash of 
lightning revealed her on the highest and most dangerous 
peak of the jutting cliff, with arms reached high above 
her bared head, calling down from heaven the awfulest 
curses upon him, her husband, and upon all the race who 
bore his hated name. There was a momentary flutter of the 
white dress, a shriek of terrible laughter, that rang in the 
ears of those who heard it all their life, and again the light- 
ning revealed to their horrified gaze the slender form 
plunge downward from the cliff, into the raging, seething 
sea. Of course it was argued that she was not responsible 
for the act, and that she was as insane as others who had 
died in various ways with the same awful affliction. 

But, nevertheless, it completely ruined the old captain’s 
life. The remaining servants left the house that same hour 
even in the wild fury of the storm; and the bereaved old 
man, aftey a few days’ stay to arrange his abruptly altered 


Trial of the Wreckers. 


93 


plans, closed and securely fastened the house~ and left 
also, boarding his good ship, which had been moored in 
the harbor so long, once more set sail on the trackless water, 
and was never heard of again, unless an unfounded rumor 
could be believed, that his staunch old craft went down also 
in a storm, one night off a foreign shore. So the old 
house had passed from one inherited owner to another, 
like an evil Nemesis, for every year it gathered an addi- 
tional cargo of ghastly horrors, until at last it had fallen 
to her heirship, by her eccentric relative. 

This was the weird, highly colored, but very interesting 
story Miriam’s visitor related to her concerning her an- 
cestors as far back as he thought would be of any par- 
ticular interest to her. 

‘‘But now,” he said, “I can give you some items of a 
far pleasanter nature. Your uncle, as I informed you be- 
fore, was a bachelor, wealthy and eccentric, but kind- 
hearted, when once understood. Unfortunately, very few 
knew him or liked him well. He had some very peculiar 
notions about women and religion. As you perhaps know, 
he had held very little intercourse with his relatives, being 
content to amass a large fortune, which he did. His gen- 
eral opinion of women was, that they were ‘a namby-pamby 
milk-and-water lot,’ as he expressed it to me, fit only to 
stand on the street, or in some conspicuous place, to giggle 
and simper and show their good clothes and try to entrap 
fools in their net — those were his precise words. Miss Per- 
cival. You he had never seen, nor had he ever troubled 
himself to find out anything about you, more than the 
fact that your immediate family were in quite strait- 
ened circumstances before they died. But when he in- 
structed me to draw up his will he affixed this strange 
codicil : That, as he was slightly, ever so slightly, interested 
in you, after he was done with time and tide, I should, un- 
known to you, seek you out, study your character, dispo- 
sition and principles, and if, in my unbiased opinion, you 
were found wort% in every respect of the gift of his vast 
possessions, then his will should remain in your favor as 
his sole heir. But if, on the contrary, you were like the 
jnpst of your sex in estimation, silly, frivolous and char- 


94 


The Old House by the Sea. 

acterless, then nothing hut the old house should he yours, 
and the remainder of his wealth should go to different 
charities; that was the wording and conditions of the legal 
document. Now, allow me to say, Miss Percival, as he 
left it entirely to my judgment to dispose of as my im- 
partial opinion of your worth and good qualities dictated, 
I think I have made a proper and correct estimate, by the 
many severe trials you have passed through lately. I am 
satisfied of the pure gold, without much dross, in your 
general make-up, and therefore I have destroyed the sep- 
arate part, according to the instructions, and now the will 
remains, naming you sole and only heir to the whole of 
his princely wealth, which consists of a magnificent villa, 
regally furnished with the best the earth affords, situated 
on the finest lawn grounds imaginable with grand old 
trees, fountains, fiowers, fruits, etc., and one million and 
a half in the bank, awaiting your acceptance.” 

Upon the conclusion of this very startling revelation the 
old lawyer, who had been leaning forward in his position, 
to so rivet the girl’s entire attention, now sat back in his 
chair and, laying his head on the cushioned rest, folded his 
thin arms, and regarded with curiosity the effect this sud- 
den good fortune would have upon the beautiful and silent 
figure sitting so motionless before him. He rather en- 
joyed the white rigidity, and speechless astonishment, for 
she did not answer. 

There had been such a long train of remarkable events 
lately in which she had seemed to revolve the central figure, 
and now this entirely unexpected and unthought-of bo- 
nanza, falling so readily into her hands, she could not real- 
ize or quite believe. She thought she must have become 
unbalanced by the terrible fever, from the effects of which 
she was still weak, and was laboring under some mental 
hallucination in regard to money, or had not heard her 
narrator’s words aright. 

Still she sat there, not daring to ask if it was true for 
fear the incredible air castle would shiver to atoms at 
her feet. Finally the old lawyer came to the rescue, by 
asking with an amused smile: “Why she did not speak? 


Trial of the Wreckers. 95 

or was she displeased with her luck?^' Then the spell 
was broken, and Miriam found voice to exclaim ; 

‘impossible ! It cannot be true.” 

“But it is true, every word of it, you brave little girl, 
or I would not be here to tell you so. Do you think I 
would be willing to excite false hopes in so grave a mat- 
ter 

Then her benumbed senses seemed to return, and she 
relaxed somewhat from her motionless position. “No ! 
No! my dear sir! I did not mean that I doubted your 
word; but I cannot yet comprehend this great good for- 
tune that has come to me so undeservedly,^^ she answered. 

“Never say undeservedly again,” he said, smiling, “for 
if ever a brave, courageous woman deserved all the good 
the gods can give her, it^s my humble opinion you are 
the one. And it affords me extreme pleasure to bestow 
upon you what I believe your uncle would have done 
had he troubled himself to find out your brave but 
modest worth, as I have.” Then he arose, and held 
out his hand. “Allow me to congratulate you. Miss Per- 
cival, and say good-by. I presume you will soon take 
possession of your grand estate, and if I can ever render 
you any assistance, legally or otherwise, as I did your de- 
ceased relative, do not hesitate to communicate with me; 
I shall be pleased to serve you. Carrying out your uncle’s 
instructions, I have retained in my possession the keys and 
entire charge of the villa until its final disposal. They 
await your appearance, or order.” He held her hand for 
a moment, then reached for his hat and cane, and bowed 
himself out. 


96 


The Old House by the Sea. 


CHAPTEK XII. 

MIRIAM VISITS AUNT PAM. 

Without the slightest intimation, or a single line to 
apprise them, so that Uncle Isaac could meet her at the 
depot with old Sorrel and the detested old wagon, Miriam 
walked from the little station, one bright afternoon, to the 
farmhouse. It was not without a shudder that she viewed 
the weather-beaten brown structure as she alighted from 
the train, and remembered under what fateful circum- 
stances she had seen it last on that weird night journey, 
many weeks ago. But, oh, how everything had changed 
since then ! No more work or worry or financial trouble 
for herself or those she loved. How bright the sun shone ! 
How beautiful the face of nature appeared! and how joy- 
ously the birds sang everywhere 1 She was a wealthy wo- * 
man now — the wealthiest in all that part of the country 
— and the world had suddenly changed to her mental hori- 
zon. What unbounded pleasure she would have. How 
* comfortable and happy she would make the old couple who 
had been father and mother to her so many years ! She 
would go out very soon, too, and take a look at her new 
acquisition, and afterwards, perhaps, she would travel and 
see some of the beautiful places of this world. This was 
the mental map girlish Miriam outlined, as she tripped 
over the well-remembered road to Aunt Pam’s that beau- 
tiful day. I will not describe the happy surprise of the 
dear old people as she walked in and found them busy 
with their daily duties, nor the rapturous joy of their 
greeting. While the country at large rang with Miriam’s 


Miriam Visits Aunt Pam. 


97 


name, connected with so much that was tragic and ro- 
mantic, the obscure liitlo village of Hallam and the aged 
couple were in blissful ignorance of all that had tran- 
spired. Miriam was extremely gratified that it was so. 
She feared they were nearly crazed over her uncertain 
fate. 

But now that she was alive and well, and all perils past 
and nearly forgotten, she told them all the facts, from 
the time of the false telegram to the present time, in- 
cluding the interview with the old lawyer and the stun- 
ning surprise of the uncle’s will. Then she described what 
she meant to do for them and the farm, for she knew they 
were wedded to the queer old-fashioned home. 

She knew, that profitless and of small value as it might 
be to others, to them it was priceless. It was to this 
cottage Uncle Isaac had brought Pamelia Strong a bride, 
the handsomest young country lass for miles around; and 
he had designed the rooms with much pride, for her recep- 
tion. Every nail and board, every plank and window- 
pane were fraught with precious memories, and indescriba- 
bly dear to both. It was there the erring son was born, 
there he had spent his free happy boyhood; and it was 
down the worn path to the little gate that he had walked 
for the last time, never to return. Einowing all this 
Miriam resolved to withhold nothing that would add to 
their comfort or restore the old place to its pristine thrift 
and usefulness. All this she talked over with the dear 
ones in the week that passed away too swiftly to the happy, 
contented girl. Then one morning came a peremptory 
telegram from Hardwick & Company, to return immedi- 
ately, in the interest of the Sandreve property. A shade 
of annoyance was very perceptible as she read the message. 
She was so happy here, why could not the old place, with 
its ghosts, leave her in peace ? However, she saw no alter- 
native but to return to the city. She and Hero started. 
He was now her inseparable companion, for the good people 
who had previously owned him, long ago relinquished all 
right in her favor when they saw the strong attachruent 
of both. 

Messrs. Hardwick & Company, when she called, in- 


98 


The Old House by the Sea. 

formed her that the wealthy old gent had called early that 
week to know what the owner had concluded to do in re- 
gard to a thorough investigation of the property, and if she 
had considered his offer? Therefore they thought it best 
to inform her of his still interested thought of buying, and 
perhaps she could make some arrangements with him. 
Miriam silently considered a moment ! A few weeks ago 
this old house had some financial value in her eyes; but 
now, since her recent acquisition of property of so much 
more value, this white elephant had dwindled down into 
insignificance. Yet something must be done with it, and 
perhaps she had better put into execution a suggestion 
offered in a previous conversation. 

‘^What would you advise?’^ she finally asked. 

‘‘Well, I think a rigid and thorough overhauling of the 
entire old structure by competent and reliable men, with 
the authority of the law to back them, is about the only 
course to pursue. You will certainly find out then what 
the mystery is, and at the same time convince the super- 
stitious inhabitants that there is really nothing in it 
but the trickery of some one, and scatter to the four winds 
of heaven this ghoulish story that is ruining the old 
house.” 

“On that point I quite agree with you,” said Miriam, 
“but is it worth the trouble?” 

The elder Hardwick looked at her in surprise. “Wh}^ 
Miss Percival ! I am quite astonished at your question. 
Certainly it is worth the trouble. I know positively, that 
if a successful effort is made to combat this existing trou- 
ble and clear up the tangle of years, that you will have no 
difficulty whatever to dispose of it at a very large price. 
Therefore I would earnestly advise immediate action in the 
matter, and any assistance I can render you, within my 
province, will be cheerfully given.” 

“Would you advise the business given to a detective?” 
she asked. 

“I would. A keen, sharp, shrewd detective — one who 
understands his business and will enter heartily into the 
scheme of unearthing and solving whatever he finds queer, 
or crooked, hidden there.” 


Miriam Visits Aunt Pam. 


99 


‘^Whom would you advise as competent and reliable 
have in my mind just the one who is exactly fitted 
for the undertaking, and I will see him for you if you 
wish/^ 

‘‘Do so,^’ she answered, “and send him at once. Give 
him the necessary instructions, and set him to work. I 
am so tired of the ghost business that I heartily wish the 
old place had never been left me.” 

Mr. Hardwick smiled. “A few thousand dollars may 
assuage the pain and mortification of your malady,” he 
answered good naturedly, “to say nothing of the extreme 
gratification of knowing who the ghosts are.” 

“Will you conduct this business, or shall I call again, 
to make some definite plan with your man?” she asked. 

“If you will allow me, I will arrange for the present; 
but in an emergency, or if anything occurs requiring your 
immediate presence, I would like to notify you at once.” 

Miriam handed him her card, and leaving some minor 
instructions, returned to the hotel. As she was again 
forced into this unpleasant business she resolved to push 
the matter with all the expediency in her power and get 
the terrible incubus off her mind and her hands at once. 
She had the stimulus of ready money now, or at least she 
could draw on her banker (through the old lawyer), for 
funds to prosecute this detective work; them if she could 
dispose of it to this prospective buyer she would be free 
from all entanglement and trouble with it forever. Sooner 
than she expected she received a note to call at once. 
Answering it hastily, she found Mr. Hardwick in a state 
of great excitement. He explained that the detective he 
sent down was not the one he had intended, but it was 
impossible to even get audience with the other, as he was 
out of town engaged on another case. However, the man 
detailed was a sharp, keen fellow, and had evidently un- 
earthed something strange, by the way he had written ; but 
he wanted an assistant at once, as he seemed to think he 
had more than he could do. Had he her consent to em- 
ploy another detective? 

Miriam refieeted a moment. “What has he found?” 

“I do not know,” Mr. Hardwick replied, “but here is 


l.ofC. 


100 The Old House by the Sea. 

his brief note to me. He does not explain; you know 
business men use few words.^^ He handed her the lines 
he had received that morning: 

^‘Am progressing finely. Found something not pro- 
grammed. Anticipate having my hands full. Send Severn 
down at once. Yours in haste — Williams.^^ 

Miriam^s face was slightly flushed when she handed back 
the letter. do not want Mr. Severn to have anything 
whatever to do with my business.’’ There was a little, 
threatening gleam in her expressive eyes. 

Mr. Flardwick looked up, with surprise in both look 
and tone, as he answered respectfully: “Mr. Severn is 
counted the very best detective in the city, and has the 
largest and most varied experience.” 

“I am not questioning his ability,” she answered. “I 
presume he is all that is claimed for him. But I went 
to him once for aid in his line, and was insulted in a way 
I shall not forget very soon.” 

“Insulted !” Mr. Hardwick exclaimed. His tone was 
almost incredulous. 

“Yes, insulted! My honest standing in the world was 
questioned ? My truthfulness was doubted, and my simple 
statements looked upon with suspicion — and all over a 
little, insignificant piece of paper which I found in that 
miserable old house. I vowed then, that never, under 
any circumstances, no matter in what severe straits I 
might be placed, would I ask his aid to help me out.” 

“I very much regret your decision,” he answered, “for 
Severn would do thorough work. But what do you pur- 
pose to do now?” 

“I think I will go down there myself; not as a detect- 
ive, of course, but to see what he has found to require 
assistance. Then we can easily arrange for some one to 
come later. There are plenty of detectives in the city.” 

She rose to go. 

“Will I hear from you again?” he asked. 

“Yes, I will inform you if anything of importance should 
make it necessary. Good morning.” 

Mr. Hardwick communed with himself after her de- 
parture : “There is more in that girl than I thought. She 


Miriam Visits Aunt Pam. 


101 


has character enough for half a dozen, and any amount of 
ready decision for an emergency, at a moment’s notice. 
I cannot understand the difficulty between her and Severn. 
He is such a perfect gentleman that rudeness is not much 
in his line. I must ask him for a solution of the mystery, 
though.’^ He knit his brows and puzzled his brain over 
the question for some moments, for he could not very 
readily dismiss the conversation, nor the peculiar develop- 
ing and shaping of affairs at the old manse. Finally the 
perplexed expression of his face relaxed in a broad smile 
as he rather exultantly informed himself that he would 
go and see Frank Severn, relate the circumstances to him, 
and have him go incog, just for the spice of adventure. 

Miriam did go to Sandreve, taking Hero with her, and 
would have been highly indignant had she known the 
projected, but well-meant conspiracy against her. She 
had unconsciously preserved the miserable little scrap that 
was destined to play such an important part in the future, 
and now she took it with her. There was mutual aston- 
ishment when she appeared on the scene. Detective Wil- 
liams was astounded at the presence of the slim young 
girl who stood before him, when he expected a man in- 
stead, who began to ask leading questions, after she had 
coolly introduced herself and the big Saint Bernard that 
stood wagging his tail in contentment. But she was more 
than surprised at the complicated and mysterious develop- 
ments that had been partially unearthed by this common 
looking young man. 

^^There were some things,” he said, ^That were per- 
fectly plain,” and there were others he frankly admitted 
were beyond him, and that was why he had sent for an 
assistant. ^^The place should be closely shadowed night 
and day, to get at the bottom of the mystery of the strange 
inhabitants, whoever they are.” 

‘^Whom do you suspect they are?” she asked. 

^‘Well, miss, that’s the question ! Sometimes I think 
they are spirits — they appear that way. But if they are, 
I am convinced they are very substantial, food eating and 
drinking ones. But they beat all the thunderin’ ghosts I 
ever had any dealings with.” 


102 The Old House by the Sea. 

^‘What have you found that led you to that conclusion 
she asked. 

^^Well, down in one part of the cellar I found two or 
three empty bottles that had been flung aside, and in all 
there were a few drops of unmistakable whiskey. I am posi- 
tive, too, that I heard human voices in the cellar, near the 
old rusty iron door. Also, in one of the locked rooms 
I heard something very like half-audible, whispering voices 
in cautious conference, then a sound as of some object ac- 
cidentally falling to the floor, and a slightly smothered 
exclamation like an oath. All these evidences, miss, con- 
vince me that these ghosts are not exactly thin air.^^ 

^^When did you make these discoveries?^^ 

"Some of them in the night, and some in the daytime. 
You see, to make a success of this work, these ghosts have 
got to be watched constantly — the cellar and the upper 
rooms at the same time, because there are so many ways 
of escape. That^s why I sent to Hardwick, who seems to 
have charge of your business, to send me some one.^^ 

"Cannot I assist you? I should very much like to if 
you are willing.^^ 

Williams wheeled suddenly around and looked at her. 
"You I” he exclaimed. There was a world of meaning 
embodied in the tone — incredulity, astonishment, doubt, 
and a suspicion of the ludicrous all blended. 

"Yes, me I” she answered with some spirit. "I am not 
a coward, if I am a girl. I have been here before — all 
alone, too, for several days, and I think there are some 
things in which even 1 could be of assistance, couldn’t I, 
Hero?” and she patted him affectionately. "There is 
one thing certain — this fellow would throttle any one who 
would attempt to hurt me.” 

"Well, I beg your pardon, miss — I had no intention of 
being rude, but you took me so by surprise, for it’s not 
often a lady would think of such an undertaking. I have 
no doubt but that both of you could be of great assistance. 
There is strong necessity of another man here as associate, 
because one man must be here at night, and another in 
concealment somewhere through the day, and one could 
not watch all the time — for we detectives have to sleep 


Miriam Visits Aunt Pam. 103 

occasionally, yon know/’ he said, with a comical grimace 
of his homely face. 

Miriam langhed heartily, as she took in the ludicrous 
import of words and expression. This interview had 
taken place in the big reception-room of the old house, 
the same day she arrived. She had such a wholesome dread 
of Severn being sent to assist that she was willing to 
do almost anything that would circumvent his being em- 
ployed on this case. She had no objections to sending 
for any other, or as many others as they thought neces- 
sary, but would not have Severn. The inn-keeper and his 
worthy helpmeet were very glad to see her, and gave her a 
hearty welcome; but nothing could shake their belief in 
the occupancy of ghosts in the old house — and Miriam, 
keeping her own counsel concerning her mission and that 
of her companion, cared not a fig what they thought. She 
occupied the same little white-washed room as before, 
where the silvery rays of the moon shone in, gilding every 
)bject, while the homely, verdant looking detective shadowed 
the gloomy old pile like a solitary wraith among the 
shadows, faithful at his post, alert and vigilant. Through 
the day Miriam and Hero took their silent positions, while 
Williams had the occasional sleep he once alluded to. Sev- 
eral days and nights passed in this way, discovering noth- 
ing new, and then Miriam found the burned end of a bit 
of candle and some fresh matches in the cellar, near the 
iron door, beside a slightly effaced footprint that had 
not been there the day before. She immediately showed 
them to Williams, who looked very grave, and without ex- 
pressing much, plainly showed his perplexity. Then she 
readily agreed with him to send at once for any one he 
chose, except Severn, to help unravel the web. The re- 
sult was a second peremptory order to Hardwick to send 
some one immediately to assist, and Hardwick by a previous 
arrangement with Severn, when the word came dispatched 
him with all haste, with a pretended letter of introduction 
to Williams, but which in reality was only a few lines 
of warning not to betray him by word or look, to Miss 
Percival. He was introduced to Miriam by the name of 
Harris, and so disguised was he that his own mother would 
not have known him. 


104 


The Old House by the 


chaptbt: XIII. 

DETECTIVE SEVERNY'S ARRIVAL. 

As Severn’s keen eyes swept Miriam’s fieantifnl face 
he knew her at once, while she related to him the last 
recent find of the candles and matches. 

^‘^Have yon never found anything else of a puzzling 
nature about the house?” he asked. ^^Sometimes what 
would be an insignificant thing to others would, to a 
detective, prove a very important revelation.’'’ 

^‘No, the items I have showed you are all I have dis- 
covered,” she answered innocently enough, for at the mo- 
ment she had forgotten the slip of paper. 

^‘Were you ever here before ?” he asked. 

'^Oh, yes, I spent a number of days exploring around 
here last summer.” 

‘^And did you then never see nor hear anything that 
aroused your doubts of the ghost theory?” 

She smiled. never once believed any of that non- 
sense, though there was evidently something queer.” 

Then she told him about the hidden rooms, and her 
efforts to fathom the mystery, and then like a flash came 
the memory of the unreadable characters penciled on that 
piece of paper. ‘‘Yes,” she said simply, “I found this,” 
spening her portemonnaie and handing the slip to him. 
“I sincerely hope you will not look upon me with the same 
unwarrantable suspicion and distrust that a detective once 
did, to whom I showed it.” 

He had got just what he had been maneuvering foe 


Detective Severn’s Arrival. 


105 


the last ten minutes; but she could not see the swift 
red that dyed his cheeks under the accusing fire of her 
words, on account of the apparently heavy beard he wore. 
He scanned the paper eagerly. To him, in that place, 
its ciphers were perfectly intelligible. It was an impor- 
tant revelation of the secret exits and entrances. Also, a 
clear understanding from the party who was there last 
to the party who would come next, as to whether the coast 
was clear, or whether they were probably watched, or 
suspected, and to be cautious. Also, some directions in 
regard to storage of smuggled goods that were expected 
soon. 

am very glad you found and preserved this,” he ob- 
served quietly; ^fit is of the greatest importance. And 
now. Miss Percival, as you are in the secret of this pecu- 
liar business I know we can trust you. This is evidently 
the secret haunt of an organized gang of burglars, and 
perhaps smugglers, who meet and secrete their stolen 
articles here. And now, if you will excuse me, I would 
like to arrange with Williams for the further develop- 
ment of our little program. I suppose you have not 
mentioned this business to any one?” 

she answered, ^^not one hint.” 

^^That is right. And another thing, I think it advisable 
not to Imow each other when we meet at the inn, or any- 
where else, if others are present. We could never be safe. 
Some secret spy might be in our very midst.” 

Miriam rose to leave them. think you can trust 
me,” she said simply. 

H think we can,” he replied. 

^^She’s a regular brick,” Williams exclaimed, as she 
disappeared through the door. 

^^You bet,” was all Severn answered. 

It would be utterly impossible for an ordinary mortal 
to know these detectives twice at a time, unless they were 
one of the craft, and hardly then, so many and various 
were their disguises. They generally managed to iden- 
tify themselves to Miriam by a peculiar look, or gesture, 
but though they knew she understood, she was apparently 
as dumb as a sphinx. It was arranged that whenever 


106 The Old House by the Sea. 

she wished to communicate with them, or they had any- 
thing of importance to impart to her, she was to come 
to a certain weed-obscured and apparently unused door 
on the south side of the house, which Severn had very 
carefully oiled for the occasion. She was to make wide 
detours in her journeys thither, and also in returning, 
that no one could possibly spy and report. She had showed 
Severn the doors she could not open, also the blank wall 
on the other side, and pointed out the spot where the 
scrap of paper lay. 

^^Have I your permission to open these doors, even 
if I have to use force that will mar their beauty some- 
what ?” he asked her, after taking possession of the prem- 
ises. 

‘^You have my permission to do anything you choose,” 
she answered with a smile. 

Very soon after this conversation he gave her a peculiar 
look and motion of the head as they sat down to break- 
fast one morning. Frank Severn now had complete charge 
of the whole business, Williams willingly surrendering 
the responsibility to him, while he remained his ready 
and faithful assistant. About an hour after Severn’s 
signal Miriam and tiero sauntered out for a walk in the 
opposite direction; but once out of sight they made a 
safe but quite lengthy circuit around to the old cliff, 
and thence among the rocks to the secret door. Miriam 
was literally speechless -for a few moments after she en- 
tered, when he showed her the discovery he had made. 
First, he had tried to force away the hard substance 
over the keyholes, but could not. Then, on the hint she 
had given of the wall on the other side, he had acted 
accordingly and, after sounding, he examined the inno- 
cently papered surface by the back passage, touched a 
secret spring, and was not surprised to see the door swing 
inward, revealing three large rooms, with plenty of evi- 
dence that they had been occupied very recently — for there 
were cigar stumps, a spirit lamp partially empty, a pack 
of well used cards, and an empty whiskey bottle, all ly- 
ing on a small, round table, and beside it stood three 
or four of the old-time priceless chairs belonging to the 


Detective Severn’s Arrival. 


107 


house. But this was the least of the finds. In the other 
two rooms were piles upon piles of the choicest merchan- 
dise. It was very much like the rock room in the hidden 
cavern, only this amount surpassed it in magnificence 
and rich variety — the richest silks and satins, the heav- 
iest and loveliest of velvets and plushes, the most marvel- 
ously beautiful carpets, draperies, and rugs, linen of all 
grades and qualities, jewelry of all kinds, and a collection 
of the most dazzling gems that ever graced the coronet 
of king or empress ! No wonder Miriam gazed speech- 
less on all this gorgeous glitter of horded wealth. Severn 
did not attempt to break the silence that seemed to hold 
her like a spell, until at last she made the exclamation 
characteristic of a woman: 

^‘Well, I never r 

Then he laughed heartily and said: ‘^Look here.’^ 
He then proceeded to the keyholes, and showed her the 
squares of japanned tin securely fastened over them. 
“’No wonder,^^ he said, “you nor I could make no visible 
impression from the other side ! The rascals did not 
intend any one should peep in and see what they are 
doing. Now I will surprise you still more,” and he opened 
the door of another of the mysterious rooms. He held up, 
one after another, disguises of all sorts, lying around on the 
floor in every direction. There was the regulation white 
sheet, and pallid, expressionless mask, and wigs of all 
sizes and colors; there was the hideous, grinning skull, 
and blood-red robe, and horrible, suggestive horns, and 
traditional clanking chains to accompany it. There was 
phosphorus in abundance — red, green and blue lanterns 
in profusion, and, last, a large quantity of blank car- 
tridges, and colored explosive powder. Altogether it was 
a frightful, heterogeneous collection, enough to make one’s 
nerves creep. Frank Severn rather enjoyed her silent 
consternation, as she stood there with her small hands 
clasped and her delicate colorless face whiter than ever. 
“I need not have brought disguises with me, if I had 
known the enormous stock these ghosts had on hand,” 
he remarked good humoredly. 


108 The Old House by the Sea. 

^^Are these what the ghosts wore?'"’ she asked, breath- 
lessly. 

“Yes ! and very soon I hope to show you the ghosts who 
wore them, as living, breathing, flesh-and-blood men, and 
1 would not be surprised if they were a very villainous 
looking lot, too. The cellar I have not thoroughly in- 
vestigated yet, fearing to disturb anything their keen 
eyes might detect, and so suspect the presence of others 
not of their own gang. But I did discover this fact: 
That the great iron door leads into a narrow passage 
through the walled enclosure, and though it would be 
beyond the power of mortal to ever unfasten the rusty 
lock, or swing it back again on its rusty hinges, they have 
apparently overcome the obstacle by sawing through, and 
removing the heavy iron bars for egress, and replacing 
them in position again, to the casual observer as firm 
as ever. Now I am waiting, expecting that these ghosts 
will sooner or later put in another appearance, when my 
assistant and myself will be on hand to give them a cor- 
dial welcome.” 

“Oh, Mr. Harris ! You are truly a wonderful man, 
and deserve to be at the head of your high profession. 
Did you think when you came here, that this was what 
the ghosts would prove to be?” 

“Yes, I .suspected it was the rendezvous of a band of 
outlaws, who were playing ghost on the credulous people 
here for a purpose of their own; but I had no idea it was 
for the concealment of smuggled or stolen goods. Now 
I believe I have the key to the many burglaries that have 
been committed in different parts of the country, on which 
I have been called to investigate and shadow; and if this 
plunder proves to be some of the stolen property of the 
people who have employed me to trace it, then perhaps ^ 
I may very soon be at the head of my profession, as you 
suggested.” 

“I sincerely hope 3 ^ou will, for you justly merit it, Mr. 
Harris.” 

“'Wonder if she would have the same opinion, if she 
knew I was the despised Severn, instead of the obscure 
Mr. Harris^ your humble servant/' and the scamp actually 


Detective Severn’s Arrival. 


109 


laughed at his ov/n abominable deceit. A few days later 
the two detectives were very mysteriously busy at the old 
house, and unaccountably mum also, both spending their 
nights there as well as their entire days — except the 
short intervals spent at occasional meals, and then never 
together — for now they constantly shadowed it like silent 
wraiths, and Miriam was positive that they expected ex- 
citing developments soon. But it was becoming very mo- 
notonous and tiresome, after all. She had been waiting 
so long for the supreme and convincing exposure that 
w^ould prove that the ghosts were living, breathing indi- 
viduals that she was almost determined to return to the 
city at once. True, her curiosity was aroused, but she 
wanted something to happen, suddenly, to bring it to a 
speedy close. Now that a happier prospect was before 
her she longed to be free from this incubus that was weigh- 
ing her down and depressing her spirits, and she re- 
solved to leave it in the able hands who had charge of it 
and go out to the little farm, and eventually to Lawn Park, 
and examine her new treasure. These were her reflections 
one night after she had retired to her little room, from the 
window of which she had such a broad view of the moonlit 
sea. She felt unaccountably restless and uneasy — she could 
not sleep, but tossed around on her bed, with the result of 
becoming more and more wakeful. Hero, who lay just 
outside the door on a mat in the hall, seemed to know she 
wanted company — several times he sniffed at the door 
and whined. Finally she arose and let him in, sat down 
by the window, and looked at the shining path of moon- 
light silvering the rippling, dancing waters. How long 
she sat there she never knew. The clock in the distant 
church tower rang out the hour of two, and yet she had 
not felt in the least inclined to sleep. Suddenly her at- 
tention was attracted to a dark object that loomed up in 
the glittering track of the waters, and then glided on 
one side in the shadow, near the jutting cliff, where it 
stood perfectly motionless. In a moment it flashed over 
her mind what the hamlet people had said about the 
^MeviPs own craft,” and its queer connection with the old 
house. In view of what these secret rooms had revealed 


110 The Old House by the Sea. 

to her a few days before, her mind was very clea*r and 
active now. She threw on a large black cloak with a 
hood attached, which she drew well over her head and 
face, and whispering to Hero to follow and make no noise, 
she crossed the room with soft, slippered feet, passed down 
the stairs, undid the simple fastenings of the door and, 
creeping along in the shadow of the straggling old walls, 
she and Hero made direct for the ghost haunt. Sometimes 
she would pause a second, fearing the bright open space 
would reveal her moving shadow, then again she would 
almost creep on the ground. Hero ever silently by her 
side, advancing scarcely a step, as though he knew that 
something of more than ordinary importance was about 
to happen. At last she reached the south side of the 
house, crept along among the trees and shrubbery of the 
neglected garden until she reached the cliff, and, peering 
over, she was not surprised to see a small boat, propelled 
by six men, nearing the stone wall below. They did 
not speak, but securing the craft to the ring in the wall, 
she saw them leap over and cautiously and slowly file 
along, like so many evil spirits, until within a few feet 
of the house foundation, and then suddenly and unac- 
countably disappear, as though the very earth had opened 
and swallowed them up. 

From her height she was looking down upon them. 
Her hair seemed to rise on her head, and her mouth was 
parched and dry. What if after all her scouting, they 
were ghosts? But only a moment was she irresolute. 

This was a supreme moment, and no time must be 
lost. Taking Hero’s big head in her hands, she looked 
him straight in the eyes, and said: 

‘^You saw those men — ^go down there and watch that 
place until I come.” 

Then she almost fiew to the secret entrance on the 
same side, and in a moment stood white and breathless 
before the astonished Severn. 

‘^Miss Percival 

'^Go down to the iron door,” she interrupted. ‘^They 
are there. I saw them enter. Hero is ” 


Detective Severn’s Arrival. Ill 

She started to rush out, without finishing, but Severn 
caught her by the arm. 

^‘^Here, take these,^^ he said, and thrust a brace of re- 
volvers in her hands. 

She returned, to find brave, faithful Hero valiantly 
guarding the spot where they had disappeared. She gave 
him a rapturous hug, and then stood motionless by his 
side. It seemed an age to her as she stood there in the 
blackness of the lurking shadows between the moss-grown 
wall and the grim, gray masonry of that terrible house, 
waiting for — what? At last the silence was broken by 
what appeared to be a fierce and wicked struggle inside, 
near the iron door. She heard the mingling of many 
voices, horrible oaths, and bitter denunciations — then there 
■was a slight rustle at her very feet, and at the same in- 
stant a low growl from Hero, who clutched something 
and held it fast. 

^^Hands up Miriam screained excitedly. But the 
voice was not very brave — it trembled and shook so, in its 
high falsetto, that it almost frightened her. Up went two 
grimy hands just the same, while a gruff voice an- 
swered : 

^^Take your d — d dog off, and I wilF’ — for faithful, in- 
telligent Hero still held him by the shoulder. A moment 
later, however, Williams came to her relief, and the up- 
raised hands were quickly adorned with bracelets. 

Hero relinquished the delectable mouthful, and the man 
who had not quite entered the hole in the door, but had 
turned back when he saw what had befallen the others, 
had tried to escape the trap inside only to get into a worse 
one outside, now emerged to the surface with the rest 
of his body, and was respectfully escorted by his guard 
of three around to the entrance at the upper part of the 
house, where he joined the balance of the congenial spir- 
its who likewise were in fetters and disgrace. 


112 The Old House by the Sea. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

CAPTURE OF THE CRIMINALS. 

It was a striking tableau, and one not often seen, when 
the four captors stood silently regarding the villainous 
looking crew seated on the floor of the large room once 
known as the reception-room. Miriam crept to Severn’s 
side as though for protection, and he unconsciously threw 
one arm around her slight shoulders. Williams stood in 
front of them with his hands in his pockets, grinning 
his entire satisfaction at the situation. 

Then Severn broke the silence. “Well, ghosts, how do 
you like it as far as you went?” to which they replied 
with a volley of oaths that shook the building. He 
turned to Miriam, taking both small hands in his, and, 
looking with unspeakable admiration in her white face, 
said: 

“Miss Percival, you are the bravest and best girl I 
ever knew in my life; but I positively insist that you go 
back to the inn and get some sleep and rest. You will 
be ill after this night’s excitement. I will send Williams 
with you.” 

“I have Hero,” she said simply; “he will take care of 
me.” 

“But it will look better,” he began saying — ^but just 
then there was a novel sensation — a decidedly unlooked-for 
occurrence. A number of determined looking men filed 
swiftly and suddenly into the great room, with revolvers 
and Winchesters leveled direct, and the order that meant 


Capture of the Criminals. 113 

business — ^^Hands up! We have run you down and you 
are our prisoners at last.” 

They were revenue officers, and were about to place 
the irons on the wrists of Severn and Williams, when the 
rays of their lanterns fell on the prostrate forms of the 
prisoners. At the same time Severn’s quiet voice said: 
“Spare the lady at my side,” adding, “we are detectives” — 
showing his badge — “and have just captured these men.” 

Then there was a decided change in the program. Apol- 
ogies were freely offered and explanations made on both 
sides. But early daylight was once more illuminating all 
the world, and they concluded to march the prisoners 
ahead of them, so the whole procession adjourned to the 
inn for a royal breakfast, as they were worn out with 
watching, and half starved besides. Miriam slipped away, 
unobserved, and went to her room to bathe her eyes and 
refresh herself, to be presentable at the breakfast table, 
and in the hall she informed Hero, confidentially, that 
he knew more than all the kings and queens and royal 
potentates of the Old World, and he should have a solid 
gold collar studded with real diamonds, with his name 
and a record of his brave deeds inscribed thereon, in place 
of the old silver one he had worn so long with the name 
of Bruce. “I would have it covered with precious stones, 
but some villain would steal you for their value, and you 
know I could not live without you now — I positively could 
not.” 

There was no jail in that harmony-loving little hamlet, 
so the criminals were confined in a strongly locked and 
guarded room, while the officials on both sides retired for 
a mutual conference. Miriam very modestly told the 
part she enacted the night before, and Severn described 
in general what he and Williams had unearthed in the 
place, with the exception of the mysterious manner in 
which the criminals had effected an entrance. Investi- 
gation showed that they had constructed a tunnel from 
the spot where they dropped from sight, leading under 
the wall of the house, which they had built up in a sub- 
stantial manner. This tunnel terminated in a few shal- 
low steps which led directly into the hidden passage, to 


114 The Old House by the Sea. 

the iron door, and with the loosened bars ingress and egress 
was made easy. The outside aperture was covered with 
a heavy square plank, somewhat obscured with rank grass 
and briars. What that strange passage was ever intended 
for by its original owner, whether he had eventually meant 
to have a door in the wall facing the sea, and changed 
his mind, will never he known. But it was its secret 
existence that had suggested to the prisoners the under- 
ground mode of entrance and concealment. The revenue 
officers, who had been on their track for a long time but 
whom the criminals had successfully evaded until now, 
had been constantly losing valuable property in a very 
mysterious and unaccountable manner, and at last chance, 
more than vigilance, had given them a clue that both 
smuggled and stolen goods were being secretly carried 
away; and, following up the clue, it had resulted in the 
discovery of their capture. They had followed in the 
wake of the cutter for a long distance, then dropped 
into the shadow of the high, rugged headlands, careful 
to keep far enough distant not to attract attention or 
suspicion. When they boarded the cutter they found 
one man in charge, whom they immediately took into 
custody, and a slight search proved the possession of con- 
traband goods. Leaving a strong guard over the prison- 
ers at the inn, they all returned to the old house to ex- 
amine the piled-up wealth of immense treasures and dis- 
honestly accumulated possessions. The most of it the 
officers recognized as their own missing property; but a 
vast amount of smaller articles, such as jewelry, watches, 
diamonds and silverware, they did not claim. Severn 
said he could easily trace the owners of these, as he had 
been employed by parties whose houses had been burglar- 
ized and an explicit description of their goods given 
him. 

These he took immediate possession of, also of the 
prisoners, he and Williams guarding them safely to the 
city, where they were given into the custody of the proper 
authorities. Now the incubus was lifted ^rom Miriam’s 
mind she was free to go when she chose. 

The many disguises and all the paraphernalia that had 


Capture of the Criminals. 115 

lent strength to the ghost theory were taken by the de- 
tectives, as so much indisputable proof of their suc- 
cessful and systematic operations. 

The hamlet people were astounded at the revelations 
thus disclosed, and many flocked to see the place who would 
not have ventured within a mile in broad daylight before. 
Then it was securely locked against further depredation. 
Miriam placed a generous sum in the hands of the two 
detectives, much larger than they asked, and as they each 
took her hand in a warm grasp in parting they expressed 
a hope of the pleasure of again seeing her at the trial of 
the prisoners. 

Then she repaired to the office of Messrs. Hardwick & 
Company, and briefly related the result of her hasty 
trip. The senior heartily congratulated her on the thor- 
ough clearing up of the abominable nest of villains that 
had well-nigh ruined the place. 

‘‘And now,^^ said Miriam, “if the old gentleman who 
expressed a wish to buy the property still adheres to that 
view, you can tell him that the ghostly tenants are re- 
moved forever, and he can have it at the price previously 
agreed upon, and all it contains, with the exception of a 
few pieces of the ancient furniture, which I wish to retain 
as heirlooms.” Miriam was in high spirits — ^no one could 
measure the excess of her happiness in having this mis- 
erable affair terminated so satisfactorily. 

Two important events remained to be compassed; one 
was the wretched trial somewhere in the near future, 
and the other, to pay a fl3flng visit to the good people who 
had so faithfully nursed her in the past few weeks with- 
out any expectation of remuneration for all their great 
trouble and exceeding kindness. It was a debt that could 
never be paid, except in gratitude, but she could delicately 
make them a present so generous that it might be of in- 
calculable' service to them. 

Then she would generously pay her indebtedness to the 
old physician who had brought her back to life and health 
once more. There was so much to be done, so many im- 
portant issues in which she was to take a prominent part, 
that she could not see her way clear to return to Aunt 


116 The Old House by the Sea. 

Pam’s, much as she wished to, or even make the promised 
visit to Earl Brandon’s home on the Hudson. The days, 
though bright and sunny, were getting cool. The leaves 
and foliage on tree and bush were turning to crimson 
and gold, flashing their gorgeous banners in the clear sun- 
light. The grass was putting on a crispy, brown appear- 
ance, and the morning-glories over Aunt Pam’s pantry 
window had all gone to seed long ago, except now and 
then a belated traveler, who opened its blue eyes for a 
short time only to close them forever. What a busy and 
remarkably eventful year it had been for her. Never in 
her short young life had so much happened in it before. 
She would never have believed it possible that she could 
have passed through such fiery ordeals and come out 
alive! And it all dated from the time she had come 
into possession of the ill-omened house. She sat in her 
cosy room at the hotel reviewing these events, wondering 
what her future life would be when she was free at last 
from harassing business difficulties. Should she take pos- 
session of Lawn Park, and live there alone, in ease and 
luxury, the rest of her life? In fancy she went over the 
distance that intervened — she saw in imagination all the 
elegant appointments described by the old lawyer, and 
then, somehow, she seemed to travel back again, and her 
journey always came to an end at the poor little stony 
farm, and rested there with the dear ones she loved so 
well, and she knew they would never leave it for all the 
luxury and flowery comforts this earth could give them. 
Her retrospective reverie was interrupted by another mes- 
sage from the Arm, to call immediately on important busi- 
ness. As she had anticipated, she found her prospective 
buyer already awaiting her appearance. Mr. Hardwick 
had given him an elaborate statement of the case and the 
heroic work that had been done, as he had heard it from 
Severn’s own lips, and assured him that the ghost theory 
was exploded forever, just as Miriam entered. He asked 
a few questions, and she stated that she wished to retain 
a few pieces of the antique furniture as curios, and would 
have them removed at once if he wished immediate pos- 
session. 


117 


Capture of the Criminals. 

To his suggestion that they look the place over as a 
finale, before further business transactions, Miriam readily 
agreed, and with the delay of only an hour or two they 
were on the way. They found everything just as it had 
been left. The old gentleman inspected every part of the 
house from garret to cellar, especially the rooms where the 
disguises were found, to be certain that nothing remained ; 
and as he wandered around through the grand old rooms, 
taking views from different windows, he was more than 
ever enchanted, and easily imagined the delight of the fam- 
ily when they arrived. 

Meantime Miriam was busily collecting together the few 
articles she intended to retain. Suddenly the old gentle- 
man^s attention was arrested by her movements, and he 
inquired what she intended to do with the remainder of 
the ancient furnishings? 

^^Give them to the fishermen’s wives, if they will have 
them in the house,” she said with a laugh. 

^^Why, Miss Percival ! I am astonished. These old-time 
articles are worth a small fortune, as relics of the ver}^ 
remote past. Name your price — I would like to own 
them myself.” 

Miriam looked up incredulous. The idea of buying 
those heavy old things ! ‘‘1 shall name no price,” she said. 

^‘With the exception of these few lighter articles, you are 
welcome to the others, if you will accept, and save me the 
trouble of removal.” 

am willing to pay you a generous price,” he answered 
earnestly. 

^^You are paying me a generous price for the place, and 
I am well satisfied,” she said. 

The brief inspection given the old gray pile proving 
satisfactory, they returned to the city, where the trans- 
fer of property and ownership was speedily effected, and 
Miriam was fifty thousand dollars richer than the day be- 
fore. It was, after all, with a curious feeling of re- 
gret that day, that she lingered a little behind and looked 
over the grand old rooms for the last time, where she 
had so lately taken such an active part and so lively 
and varied an interest — not regret that she had realized 


118 The Old House by the Sea. 

her ardent wish to sell the place and get it off her hands, 
but a strange, touching wistfulness to bid each separate 
room and its furnishings a long and a last farewell. 
She stood alone in the magnificent room facing the sea, 
which was once the exclusive and lovely retreat of the 
captain’s maniac wife, from the window of which she 
had dashed to liberty and death and made her fatal leap. 
She looked on the heavily carved rosewood bedstead, on 
the tattered silken hangings that had once hidden her 
lovely face — on the exquisite ornamentation of the chairs 
and other appointments of the beautiful, sunny room. 
She tried to imagine the dark, lovely face, that so often 
looked into the large, full-length mirror which flashed 
back her beauty while she gloried in her own unrivaled 
charms, when that mirror, like its owner, was in its 
prime, but which was now cracked and tarnished beyond 
remedy. She looked at the shreds of ruined tapestry, 
and thought of the daintily slippered feet that once trod 
those mosaic floors, or tapped impatiently that almost 
priceless fabric. She tried to imagine the nearly crazed, 
heart-broken captain, who held his insane wife’s memory 
so sacred that he would not allow a thing to be displaced 
or moved that her white fingers had touched last, but 
had dismissed the servants, shut up the house, and gone 
away never to return, leaving everything as though for 
occupancy to-morrow. And so it had remained to the 
present day, though many decades had passed since then. 
Though she had so often walked through those vast rooms 
carelessly or indifferently; though she had glanced at 
those priceless antiques disinterestedly, or had wondered 
by whom this room or that had been specially occupied 
by her 'dead ancestry, yet she knew now to a certainty 
that this was the last, the very last time she would ever 
move through them herself, or in fancy repeople them 
with other living forms, or gaze at anything they con- 
tained. She took a long look at the projecting cliff, at 
the wild, neglected flower garden, suggestive of other 
days, and lastly down at the holes near the iron door, 
that brought to her mind so vividly the scene enacted there 
not very long ago. She was puzzled why she should thus 


Capture of the Criminals. 119 

be taking a half regretful farewell of each old associated 
spot, and when she finally locked the great hall door and 
had gone quite a distance down the stretch of sandy road 
she turned again, and looked once more, and for the 
last time, at the gloomy, forsaken, desolate old mansion 
standing in its grayness and utter silence on the cliff 
rocks, but curse ridden and ghost haunted no more. 

The dainty pieces she had selected and brought with 
her were greatly admired by relic hunters. She preferred 
to retain them rather than accept the enormous prices 
they offered for them. Before the exciting trial of the 
prisoners came on JMiriam resolved to make a hasty trip 
out to the distant farm home of the Hughes family, whom 
she would ever remember with the deepest gratitude. 

Hero, of course, accompanied her, and his boisterous 
delight at seeing old friends and old, familiar places 
again, was unbounded. It was a delightful gratifica- 
tion to them to know they had not been forgotten by the 
faithful creature in his long absence from them. But 
it was Miriam who was petted and praised for her hero- 
ism; who was coddled and cared for by the old grand- 
mother, lest she would be sick again, if the wind blew on 
her; and who personified, in their eyes, all that was 
brave, good, lofty and pure in peerless young girlhood. 
The clergyman, Ernest Clifford, who had taken such an 
active interest in her, was temporarily absent, making some 
arrangements with a brother clergyman prior to his re- 
turn to his own church in the city; but his surprise and 
delight at meeting her again can better be imagined 
than described. Though he had never betrayed by word 
the great love that was ever present with him, and she 
never knew the long, prayerful nights he paced beneath 
her window, though he had as yet never disclosed the 
radiant hope that "colored and brightened all the beauti- 
ful future, yet his large gray eyes had revealed it a 
thousand times, and in many tender ways had he showed 
his entire devotion to her. Yet so far as he could judge 
she seemed not to know it. Ho conscious blush ever 
stained the marble whiteness of her cheek. Ho down- 
cast glances, or trembling lid, or averted gaze, ever told 


120 The Old House by the Sea. 

liim that she cared more for him than she did for grandma 
or her daughter, or any one else, and he knew that on 
the pure white tablet of her virgin heart no man had 
ever written his name or his love. But now he could 
not go to his distant home without knowing whether he 
could awaken a sentiment of love in her spotless breast. 
He had waited so long — he could not let this fair sweet 
girl slip out of his sight again, without knowing his fate 
from her own tender lips. Yet he hesitated, resolved, 
and again hesitated, fearing what he could not bear. 
The happy days flew by, as supremely happy days will. 
Miriam was enjoying herself to the fullest extent with 
vigorous country life, and every day he grew more and 
more fascinated with her and her natural, unaffected 
manners, yet the day was continually delayed that would 
cither make him happy or miserable for life. 

‘T never had so much fun in all my life,” Miriam re- 
marked to her hostess one day, as she came bounding in. 
And, indeed, the sparkle in her eye, the brilliant flush, 
on her cheek, and her quick, springing step, seemed to 
confirm her words. H believe the air is purer, the sky 
fairer, the beautiful clouds more fleecy, and the world 
bigger and better out here on the farm, where such good 
people as 3^ou and your family live, than it is in the hot, 
crowded city.” Her hostess smiled, as she passed her 
hand caressingly over the soft, wavy hair, and assured 
her that it was only because her own heart was so warm 
and true. 


The Knitting Lesson. 


121 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE KNITTING LESSON. 

One day while sitting very demurely beside grandma, 
who was placidly knitting a sock for one of the children, 
she told Miriam, confidentially, of a ‘^big mortgidge’^ on 
the farm, that had never been paid off “ ^cause they never 
seemed tu git fore-handed ^nuff, somehow, to du it; but 
she did hope the crops would all turn out good this year, 
so they could do somethin’ ’bout it.” 

Miriam was an interested listener at once. ^^How much 
is the mortgage?” she asked softly. 

‘^More’n three hundred dollars, I guess,” was the sad 
answer. 

^^Who holds the mortgage?” again Miriam asked. 

^^Old Squire Latham, up here to the corners — know 
him?” she asked innocently enough. 

“Xo,” Miriam answered absently. She was thinking 
hard just then. Her scheming brain told her that this 
was just the opportunity she had been waiting for, in 
which she could render them a substantial favor for all 
their many kindnesses to her, and she meant to so manage 
it that it would neither wound their pride nor offend 
them. 

^^And now the minister is goin’ hum,” grandma’s voice 
crooned on, ‘^an’ we can’t hev his board no more; an’ 
las’ year the crops wuz good, but the price fer projuce 
wuz low, an’ year ’fore that the drought swallered an’ 
dried up everything, an’ I du hope to marcy things will 
turn out hotter thi8 year, gut luu’ sakes’ alive, child, 


122 


The Old House by the Sea. 

you mustn’t say nothin’ to Marthy Ann nor James ’bout 
what I’ve told ye, dearie, ’cause Marthy Ann, she’s kinder 
proud-like, an’ James — well, he’s workin’ hard an’ doin’ 
the best he kin, I reckon.” 

But our Miriam, loyal and true, had learned her lesson 
in knitting, and now saw the way clear before her. She 
rose and walked out in the clear autumn sunshine, to 
think. ^‘'Up to the Corners” where Squire Latham lived 
was about half a mile; she was reluctantly thinking of 
returning home very soon, and so must needs arrange 
this business at once. Squire Latham brought his iron- 
^ bowed spectacles down from his forehead, which reached 
generously around to the back of his head, and looked 
at the young lady who stood before him asking some very 
extraordinary questions about the mortgage on the Hughes 
farm. 

^^Yes, thar’s a morgidge on it — been thar some time, 
to be sure ; but ez long ez the int’rest is paid yearly, dunno 
ez I care how long it runs.” 

“How much is the mortgage?” she asked. 

“Wall, morgidge an’ int’rust together is nigh about 
four hundred dollars, I reckon. Was ye thinkin’ o’ 
buyin’ ?” 

“No! I was thinking of paying it off, as a favor for 
them.” 

“Oh, ye was, was ye? Wall, young lady, we kin soon 
fix that ’ar. I’ll jest send fer them tu come right down 
here tu my office, an’ hev it dun up ’cordin’ tu law an’ 
order.” 

“No,” Miriam protested, “I don’t want it that way. 
I want to pay this mortgage off now, myself, and take 
the receipts and papers back to them, without their know- 
ing anything about it, and surprise them with it.” 

“Wall, young lady, that ’ar is very nice of ye, tu be 
sure, but I don’t b’l’eve I kin du it that ’ar way, nohow. 
Ye see I am Squire here — Jestice o’ the Peace, Squire 
Latham, Esq. — maybe ye’ve hearn tell o’ me ? I’m known 
purty near everwhar, an’ I’d want a important piece o’ 
business, like that ’ar, dun up ’cordin’ tu law; an’ this 
’ere way is a little outea the common run.” 


123 


The Knitting Lesson. 

"Then you refuse!” 

The squire pushed his specs hack again on top of his 
bald head. "Ye see, it’s out o’ the reg’lar run o’ bizness, 
an’ I don’t reckon I kin du it, young lady.” 

That night, after Grandma Hughes had retired, Miriam 
stole softly into the bedroom and sat down on the side 
of the bed. "Grandma,” she began, "I have been think- 
ing about what you told me to-day, when I was learning 
to knit — about the mortgage, and the crops and all that, 
and I feel very sorry for your son and his wife.” 

"Hush, dearie,” she said in a half whisper ; "you mustn’t 
let on ’bout what I told ye.” 

"I am not going to let on,” Miriam answered in the 
same vernacular. "But, grandma, if I leave something 
in your care — a little present, you know, to give to them 
after I have gone away — promise me you will not say 
anything to them about it, while I am here.” 

"Yes, dearie, I’ll du anything ye want me tu; but ye 
ain’t goiiT tu leave us now, are ye?” 

"Yes, grandma, I am going to-morrow, and after I am 
gone you give them the present. You and I will have 
a little secret together the rest of the family will know 
nothing about, won’t we?” and she patted the dear old 
face. 

"Yes, child, I will du jest ez ye tell me tu du, an’ 
I won’t fergit, neither; but I’m powerful sorry ye’re goin’ 
so suddent.” 

Miriam explained how she had already extended the 
original period of her visit, and must go now; then she 
bent over, said gently, "good-night,” kissed her and was 
gone. 

Miriam had never made the slightest allusion to her 
fortune nor her changed circumstances, and they simply 
thought the lovely girl had come on a visit and a rencwa'i 
of old times, and were delighted to have her do so. She 
knew grandma had not appealed to her purse nor her 
generosity when she made the confidential disclosures she 
did. 

The next day, a short time before the one o’clock train 
was due at the "Corners,” Miriam announced to the aston- 


124 The Old House by the Sea. 

ished family that she was going to the city on that very 
train. In vain they tried to dissuade her, using every 
argument, even suggesting, ^^What will the minister say?” 

“He will say, ^Has she gone T Miriam answered mis- 
chievously. Then she went to grandma’s side, slipped 
something into her pocket, pressed her young sweet face 
for a moment against the wrinkled one, and whispered: 
“It’s there, grandma, in your pocket — what we talked 
about last night, you know — and when I am gone you 
can give it to them.” She grasped the outstretched hands 
of each of the others in a warm, fervent clasp, and was 
soon out of sight of the tearful eyes that watched her 
from the doorway. Hero’s tail waving gracefully beside 
her. 

Grandma’s age-cracked voice arrested their attention 
as they re-entered the now suddenly lonesome house, while 
she at the same time handed her son a small package. 
“She tole me tu giv’ this tu ye both, but was orful per- 
ticlar not tu let ye know it till arter she was gone.” 

Wonderingly James took the envelope from the trem- 
bling hands, his wife looking over. 

“To James and Martha Hughes. 

A small present for countless hindnesses 
received, that can never be repaid/* 

Excitedly the farmer opened it, and five new crisp one- 
hundred dollar notes fell into his almost paralyzed hand. 
They looked at each other in speechless astonishment. 
The tableau of that worthy, but silent three, was perfect 
and complete, but Miriam was not there to see it. “More 
than enough to pay off the debt, and be free once more,” 
he whispered agitatedly to his wife and mother. “I dare 
not refuse it.” 

“The Lord bless the dear, good child !” fervently ex- 
claimed grandma, and her son and his wife bowed their 
heads low as she said it. 

Miriam stopped just long enough on her way to the 
ptation tp electrify the pompous old Squire with the statC'^ 


125 


The Knitting Lesson. 

ment that the Hughes family would probably remove that 
mortgage themselves very soon, ^cordin'* tu law,” and 
before he could pull down his ^^specs” she was gone, and 
a few moments later was speeding homeward. Judge of 
the surprise of the dominie, when he returned from the 
sick bed of some one in the neighborhood and learned of 
the sudden flight of the merry girl. 

She found a long and interesting letter awaiting her 
from Gracie Brandon, including a few lines from Earl 
himself, urging her to come out and visit them while 
the beautiful, sunny days lasted, before winter Anally 
set in, and to come very soon if possible, because he would 
be home for a short time, and he would like her visit 
to occur before his return. She resolved to go at once. 
She had promised Earl she would visit them, in her in- 
terview with him that evening after the exhaustive trial 
was over. It was as he said — the sunny days would not 
last long, and she felt just in the mood for the visit, 
and perhaps the present opportunity was more favorable 
than any she would ever have. She answered the letter, 
assuring them she would accept, and stating the time of 
her probable arrival. Then she made her short but neces- 
sary preparations. She had not met Severn or Williams 
since she ‘^squared accounts” with them and they had 
bade her good-by, but she knew the time of the trial 
of the last set of law-breakers was not far distant, and 
she dare not delay her visit too long. The preparations 
for her journey were soon made, and one bright, pleasant 
morning, she and Hero, with the glittering gold collar 
she had promised him, started for the home of the Bran- 
dons, at Cameron Park on the Hudson. She was met 
at the depot by Earl and Gracie with the family carriage, 
and was welcomed at the elegant and stately old residence 
by as kind and hospitable a host and hostess as ever 
the sun shone on. It was a grand old place, setting well 
back in the loveliest grounds imaginable, tastefully kept, 
surrounded by elms and maples of giant growth, while 
liigh mounds, Ailed with late flowers of a hardy nature, 
still waved their graceful heads in the chill autumn 
pir. Inside, all was warmth, luxurious ease, and reftne- 


126 The Old House by the Sea. 

ment. Exquisite paintings, lovely statuary, soft car- 
pets, costly lace draperies, elegant furniture, bric-a-brac 
from foreign lands — everything that pleased the eye and 
ministered to the esthetic senses, was in that beautiful 
and perfect home. 

Miriam earnestly requested Earl and Grade, on the 
homeward drive, to make no mention to his parents of 
the tragic scenes so familiar to both. Earl laughed 
heartily, and assured her he would be very pleased to 
grant her request, but as the whole united press, every 
wire, and almost every pulpit in the country had an- 
nounced her exploits in very flattering terms, he rather 
thought the household were quite familiar with the facts. 
‘^So you see. Miss Percival, you are a heroine in the 
eyes of my respected father and mother, whether you 
will or not.” 

Miriam was petted, waited on, and spoiled by every 
one. There were receptions, luncheons, afternoon teas, 
brilliant costume balls, and many other festivities in 
her honor, in which she was the central flgure, the 
cynosure of all eyes. Every one was acquainted with 
the strange perils she had passed through, and the slen- 
der, happy girl was recognized as a very modest and beau- 
tiful heroine. Many were the envious glances cast upon 
Earl Brandon by the young men of his set as he appeared 
in every social gathering as the exclusive escort of the 
lovely girl. Miriam was extremely happy in this whirl 
of constant gayety, and yet, in the midst of it all, she 
would sometimes find herself wandering back to the 
homely farmhouse she had left but a few days before. In 
imagination she was in the big, roomy barn, petting the 
horses, feeding the speckled chickens, or riding from the 
field on the load of potatoes, regardless of her city dress. 
Not that she was less happy here than there. But that 
was a wild, rollicking, don’t-care kind of happiness, free 
as the winds, joyous as the birds, her conventional city 
manners thrown to the winds, care-free from morn till 
night, just as she used to be at Aunt Pam’s, when she 
raced around in her childhood days with her old, faded 
sunbonnet hanging down her back held by the well-worn 


127 


The Knitting Lesson. 

strings around her neck, when Uncle Isaac would wheel 
her up to the cellar door seated on a load of “taters or 
passnips.” It was nearing the time when Earl Bran- 
don’s brief leave of absence was drawing to a close, and 
he must soon report ready for work again. He was well 
aware there were many rumors afloat that the lovely girl, 
with her exquisite beauty, was already his affianced bride. 
He had heard it often, and while he did not really admit 
it, neither did he deny it, ardently hoping that when the 
favorable test came it might prove true. But this idle 
gossip had never reached the ears of the innocent girl, 
neither had she such a thought. She liked Earl Bran- 
don immensely as a frank, good-natured, merry com- 
panion, and a kind, considerate friend, whose sterling 
worth could be relied on at all times; but she did not 
love him — more is the pity ! and she would have been 
quite indignant had she known this unfounded story was 
being circulated. 

But the hour was very near when he would speak, for 
he felt that he must know his fate, whether bitter or 
sweet, and his time was so limited it would bear no 
further postponement. He knew his family were in- 
fatuated with her, and ready to welcome her to their 
hearts and home. Her possible poverty was nothing in 
his eyes. The lack of dollars and cents made not the 
slightest difference — it was the good and beautiful girl 
he wanted. He could and would surround her with every- 
thing to make her happy — every luxury her dear heart 
craved — the Lord grant that he could win her! 

She and Gracie went into the conservatory one morn- 
ing, where the exquisite colors and intoxicating perfumes 
of the many choice flowers almost bewildered the senses. 
It was not long before Earl sauntered in also. Then he 
gave his sister a look which she understood, and she went 
out of the room on very urgent business and did not 
return. 

‘‘How very beautiful these flowers are?” she said, as 
they paused before some rare exotics. 

‘‘Which of them all do you admire most?” he asked 
somewhat absently. 


128 The Old House by the Sea. 


( 


Among so many lovely blooms, how can one choose?’’ 
she answered lightly. 

^^And yet I have chosen among a world of lovely 
flowers, one whom I hope to wear in my heart forever.” 

She looked up in his face. Something she saw there 
awed her — it was grave and white. 

‘^Let us sit down here in this quiet nook,” he said, 
^^among the roses.” And he led her to a seat. ^‘1 have 
something to say to you before I go away to-morrow.” 

‘‘To-morrow, Earl ? Surely not so soon,” she said, 
in a surprised tone. 

“Yes! In the morning, early. I have just received a 
letter curtailing my time three days. I must know my 
fate before I go. Miriam, dear little girl, I love you 
with a love so strong, so tender, so true, that its very 
intensity unnerves me and makes me weak before you. I 
have loved you thus dearly and entirely ever since the 
tragedy at the Cut, and I shall love you only and en- 
tirely the rest of my life. Miriam, can I hope for a re- 
ward, dear? Can I hope that the exquisite flower I have 
chosen from all the world of rare exotics, will bloom 
only for me?” 

“Oh, Earl!” It was all she said; but he read his an- 
swer as unerringly as plainer words could have told him. 
There was a world of sorrowful, regretful anguish in word 
and tone as she wailed out his name, and the dark head 
drooped, the beautiful eyes turned away, that she might 
not look upon the compressed lips, and white, haggard, 
pain-drawn features. 

He stood for a moment still and silent, with a great 
and agonized cry in his heart and a blank in his young 
manhood’s life that would nevermore be filled with an- 
other love. Then he bent and kissed her white forehead, 
reverently, tenderly — his first and last kiss — and went out, 
with no word of farewell. 


Second Trial of Criminals. 


129 


CHAPTER XVI. 

SECOND TRIAL OF CRIMINALS. 

Again the old court room was crowded to its utmost 
capacity, to learn the astounding revelations this most 
uncommon trial would reveal. The legal formalities dis- 
posed of, the counsel were ready for the examination of 
witnesses. Miriam, Severn and Williams were in wait- 
ing, whenever their names were called. The two able 
detectives had been hastily summoned from a distant 
city, where they were working together on cases of 
burglary. The first witness called was Miriam, and she 
gave her evidence, as on a former occasion, in a clear and 
truthful manner — no hesitancy of speech, no lapses of 
memory — and though she passed a long and severe legal 
ordeal, they could find no fiaws in the strong, convinc- 
ing testimony she gave, and she took her seat amid a 
hushed and profound silence. Then the name of ^^Detect- 
ive Severn’^ was called, and Miriam leaned forward at 
once. What had he to do with it? Why did they not 
call on Mr. Harris or Williams? But she had not long 
to conjecture, for a tall, slim young man advanced, de- 
void of beard, gray wig, or any other disguise. He took 
the witness chair, and instantly his keen eye swept the sea 
of heads and sought the one spot where Miriam sat. 
Even then he marked the half incredulous, half indig- 
nant flash of her eyes as she regarded him wonderingly. 

Then her astonishment cannot be described, as hej in 


130 The Old House by the Sea. 

response to the usual questions, gave his name and occu- 
pation. Yes, he was Severn, certainly. She knew him 
now — and the gross deception, too, that had been prac- 
ticed upon her, as he, without a quiver of nerve or con- 
science, told quietly and calmly, even to detail, all the 
work prosecuted at the haunted mansion, strongly cor- 
roborating every item Miriam had given them. 

‘^Why were you known to Miss Percival by the name of 
Harris, instead of your own name?^’ questioned the op- 
posing counsel. 

Severn smiled. ^^You know that detectives are some- 
times obliged to use disguises,” he answered. 

‘‘But why should you use a disguise with her — ^your 
employer ?” 

“Same necessity,” he answered. 

“Do you mean to say ” 

Here the counsel for the people arose and interrupted 
with a decided objection, and Severn was dismissed. Then 
came Williams, affirming the statements of both previous 
witnesses — then the revenue officers gave a long and ac- 
curate account of their chase after the prisoners, and 
their successful find, after they had been captured by the 
detectives, together with plenty of stolen property, which 
they recognized and fully identified as their own. The 
case was clearly proven against the criminals and the 
trial closed, the audience dispersed, and Miriam passed 
out with feelings that cannot be described. She was so 
thoroughly indignant at the deception Severn had prac- 
ticed upon her and carried out successfully to the very 
last day, that she could not give expression to her feel- 
ings. 

Just who was responsible for this double-dyed deceit' 
she did not know, but she strongly suspected it was a 
mutual understanding between Hardwick and Severn. If 
Hardwick had any part in it she would not forgive him, 
either, for he knew she strenuously objected to Severn 
from the first. 

“She is just my ideal,” Severn admitted to himself, 
as he left the court room. “Just the brave, true, tender 
little girl I would like to own for a wife, and, oh! how 


Second Trial of Criminals. 


131 


I could love and respect, reverence and honor ^far above 
rubies’ such a woman.” He resolved to call upon her at 
the hotel at which she was temporarily stopping, before 
he left the city, renew his acquaintance, and if all was 
favorable, to ofer himself, his loyal love, his grand home, 
all and everything he was then, or ever hoped to be in 
the future, to her acceptance. He had had no opportu- 
nity to speak to her since coming to the trial, but when he 
did call upon her it was only to find his bird fiown, for 
Miriam, to soothe her wounded pride, had taken Hero 
had gone straight to Aunt Pam’s. Then her bitterness 
modified considerably. She could not but remember with 
feelings of kindness the rich and glowing tribute he paid 
to her unflinching bravery in his evidence before the jury, 
when he described the part she took in the capture. And 
if she could only have known this last, and higher mark 
of exaltation and esteem in which he held her, and which, 
after all, is the highest compliment a man can give a 
woman, she would have banished forever every shadow of 
ill feeling, doubt or mistrust, and buried the hatchet at 
once. It was her final and never-failing antidote for 
all the ills that flesh is heir to — her one balm for every 
pain, whether mental or physical, ^To just go to Aunt 
Pam’s.” 

It was her custom when a child, if anything grieved 
or hurt her, to go as fast as her little feet could take 
her straight to Aunt Pam’s motherly lap, and, sitting 
there, tell her all about it, and that always healed the 
ailment, no matter what it was. And so in this instance ; 
besides, she had so much to tell the old couple. A great 
deal had happened since the morning she was summoned 
away so hastily. She could talk a month and not get the 
half told then. 

She wanted to do wonderful things for them, too, now 
that she had the money, and the poor, old ‘Tun-down” 
•farm, and old-fashioned cottage needed exhaustive repairs 
to be put into a comfortable and profitable condition gen- 
erally. But she had only about a week to follow around 
after Aunt Pam and talk continually, as the dear old 
lady ambled slowly about her household duties^ when 


132 The Old House by the Sea. 

something occurred that threw everything else in the 
shade, and moved them to the highest pitch of excitement 
— not only the family, but the whole neighborhood also. 

This was nothing more or less than a long and loving 
letter all the way from Australia, from the son — the dear, 
idolized son, from whom they had not heard for many 
years, and had long since mourned as dead. Now he was 
coming home, so the letter said, and if their sorrowing 
hearts were not entirely weaned from their erring boy 
he hoped to make them so happy by his home-coming 
that they would forget the past. 

‘^The Lord be praised!” exclaimed Uncle Isaac fer- 
vently, with his toil-hardened upraised hands and his eyes 
turned heavenward. 

It was the only and habitual expression of his deep 
and earnest piety, whenever anything particularly called 
it forth. 

Aunt Pam just dropped into the low rocker, and rocked, 
and sobbed into her check apron as though her heart would 
break, continually murmuring, “My boy ! My poor, dear 
hoy 1” 

That night the usual sad, heart-broken prayer was 
changed to one of happy, earnest thanksgiving, “for the 
one that was lost was found again, and the one that 
was dead was alive,” and now his name was mentioned for 
the first time in years in a tender, tremulous tone, with 
a loving, lingering softness that was touching to hear. 
Preparations began for the event that would have seemed 
perfectly ridiculous for the occasion, had it not been for 
the fervent earnestness evinced by both in every detail. 
The white muslin curtains must be taken down, and 
washed and “done up,” though not a speck was on them. 
His room, which no one was allowed to enter but herself 
or Uncle Isaac, and which had been closed and locked 
since the dark night he escaped, was now reopened, to 
be cleaned, “swept and garnished;” and the whole house 
likewise was revolutionized. Not that it needed such a 
cleaning, by any means, for Aunt Pam was a notably tidy 
and systematic housekeeper, but as Miriam informed Hero 
very confidentially one day, out in the silence of the wood- 


Second Trial of Criminals. 


133 


shed, ^^all this unnecessary commotion is to celebrate in a 
fitting manner the arrival of the only son and heir to the 
poor little stony farm and old, ^ram-shakelty’ barn. He is 
a cousin of yours and mine, I suppose; but I have no 
remembrance of him. It is a wonder they don’t get some 
Chinese lanterns and Fourth of July explosives, and have 
a spread-eagle orator and a brass band, and a lawn party 
for the occasion. I suppose, however, that it’s too cold 
for that, but I have a good notion to suggest it anyway. 
I presume if I did, aunt would look over her specs at me 
and wonder if I had gone crazy. I am just dying, too, 
to hear how the old wagon will groan, and squeak, and 
squawk for mercy, and how old Sorrel will puff, and 
blow, and stop to rest, and kick off an imaginary fly, 
when uncle is bringing his majesty home from the depot; 
but it wouldn’t do to say a word. Hero, for anything in 
the world, only I must talk to some one, but I know you 
will never mention it.” Hero tipped his head on one 
side, regarded his young mistress very seriously, and 
wagged his tail, and she knew he meant to keep his word. 
Then they both started for the bam, to electrify the 
feathered tribe, and hunt for some strictly fresh eggs, 
or, as she told Hero, as strictly fresh as the hens could 
produce them, but she supposed the poor things would 
have to make an extra effort about the time the great 
Australian arrived from the land of the kangaroos. ^^Oh, 
I tell you. Hero ! There will be swell times around here. 
When the prodigal comes, your nose and mine will be out 
of joint; but there is one thing that gives me genuine 
satisfaction, and that is, our respected relatives are too 
poor to indulge in the traditional Tatted calf,’ and I 
shall not help them out in the least in that line, but I 
expect the old rooster, or something else will suffer to 
appease his awful appetite. Now, Hero, I have indulged 
in slang to-day to my heart’s content, and I feel better, 
but if your Aunt Pam knew it she would declare I was 
unregenerate, and a case of total depravity; so d'on’t 
mention it.” She had gathered the eggs, and had them 
in her aunt’s ample check apron, held together by th^ 
corners; and was sitting high and dry on the fragrant 


134 The Old House by the Sea. 

haymow while she gave vent to her disgust of everything 
in general and her cousin in particular, with Hero an 
interested and trusted listener. Then she arose, with the 
remark, ^^that perhaps she had better Te moving,^ if aunty 
intended using those eggs that day.” 

Although she had indulged in so many unkind con- 
fidences to Hero, Miriam worked with a will, or at least 
with apparent interest, and was generous with money for 
expenditures — all but the calf, and she drew the line 
there. She told Hero she would not have a poor little 
calf sacrificed for the great Australian’s appetite, no mat- 
ter how hungry he was. So the preparations went on 
day after day; nothing scarcely was talked of but the re- 
turn of the conquering hero who had never seen a battle. 
It was pitiful to see the dull red flush in Aunt Pam’s 
old wrinkled cheek, never fading, but always there, as 
she went vigorously forward with every new undertaking, 
every minute detail. At last it was completed ; the whole 
house was in order, and they only waited the all-important 
telegram announcing his arrival in port and expected 
appearance at the little station. 

Miriam, sweeping away the dead leaves one morning 
that littered the dilapidated walk to the gate, informed 
Hero that the Great Mogul was expected almost any hour 
now, and they would have to be very strait-laced and cir- 
cumspect in his grand presence. It seemed now as if 
everything put on a quiet holiday sort of air, and Uncle 
Isaac and Aunt Pam rested from their labors and waited. 
With eager eyes and anxious, expectant hearts they watched 
for the message, or a letter. 

This was not to be touched, that not to be disturbed, 
until ^^Ealph come.” At last the flush in the dear old 
face began to change. One day it would deepen, the next, 
perhaps, fade out entirely, only to reappear as hope and 
blissful expectation flamed up with the rising sun. 

’Pears kinder strange, don’t it, Isaac, that we don’t 
hear nothin’? no telygraft, nor nothin’ else from Ealph 
that the ship’s re’ly got here; an’ we ortu expect him 
now?” 

^^Wall, it du seem kinder queer, Pamela, but ye see 


Second Trial of Criminals. 


135 


sometimes the ship don’t git here jest when she sez she 
will, on ’count o’ storms or suthin’, an’ I dunno ez he 
could send any word then.” 

^^Wall, I du hope there won’t he no storm on the ocean 
while he’s aboard of it, an’ that he’ll git here ’fore 
Thanksgiving, fer I’m powerful feared everything will 
spile, if he don’t come purty soon.” 

‘‘Yes, Pamela; but ye see we’ve got to take things jest 
ez the Lord sends ’em,” and Uncle Isaac went on with 
his work, chopping the winter wood and piling it up. 
The expected message did not come, though a near neigh- 
bor did, one day, with a daily that was about a week old, 
and in it was a long account of the collision of the ship 
“Australia,” with another, and all on board lost. Aunt 
Pam listened with wide open, horror-stricken eyes, gasp- 
ing breath, and swaying body, but she spoke no word. 

“All this ’ere axident must a-happened more’n a week 
ago,” said the not over comforting neighbor, “an’ we ain’t 
only jest heerd on’t; don’t tell whether any on ’em was 
picked up an’ saved, er not. It do beat all, though, an’ 
’pears like we ain’t goin’ ter know.” 

But neither of the sorely stricken old hearts, so sud- 
denly benumbed in this great and overwhelming sorrow, 
made sign in word or voice, and the neighbor went home, 
leaving the fatal paper behind. Then Miriam’s strong 
young arms were clasped around the tottering figure, 
just as she was fainting and about to fall from the chair. 
She and her uncle carried her to the bedroom, and laid 
her gently on the bed, then he went out to the old barn and 
wrestled alone with his mighty and living sorrow, that 
seemed heavier than he could bear. He did not weep, 
but just sat there on the old tool chest, buried his face, 
with its utterly hopeless expression, in his toil-worn 
hands, and groaned out his unspeakable anguish. “It’ll 
nigh about kill Pamela, this ’ere will,” he communed 
aloud. “Seem’s as ef the Lord ain’t good to us no more, 
Pamela an’ me, nor hain’t been for years. An’ I dunno 
what I’ve done to deserve it. I’ve tried my best tu du 
what’s right an’ straight an’ squar’ by my, neighbor,' ez 
well ez myself an’ everything around me, an’ I know 


136 The Old House by the Sea. 

Pamela hez, too; but nothin’ seems tu go forehanded with 
us none o’ the time. I did kinder think He wuz givin’ 
us a little streak o’ marcy, in sendin’ our boy hum to 
us, but this ’ere thing ’at has happened is wus’n all the 
rest.” 


News of the Shipwreck. 


137 


CHAPTER XVII. 

NEWS OF THE SHIPWRECK. 

The house was all in readiness, 

His room was decked with flowers, 

Three hundred homes were desolate, 

And one of them was ours. 

Aunt Pam did not rise from her sick bed and go about 
her quiet household duties on the morrow, as she usually 
did after some slight physical ailment, but just lay there 
and moaned and wrung her hands. Uncle Isaac tried, 
in his poor, patient, well-meaning way, to comfort and 
console her, but all in vain. 

“T^ain’t no use, Isaac ; t’ain’t no use. I don’t know what 
we’ve ever done, you and I, that the Lord’s hand should 
be laid so heavy upon us, nor why this double sorrer an’ 
trouble should be sent twice; an’ ez long ez I can’t see 
thru’ it, t’ain’t no use ter tell me ’at the Lord’s ways is 
mysterious and kind, an’ that He chastens them ’at He 
loves. I can’t see any love in it yit, Isaac — not yit. 
Maybe I will arter a while, but not now, an’ the promises 
in the Bible don’t comfort me neither — not yit.” 

Miriam had it doubly hard just now. To try to com- 
fort those two old people, who seemed to turn to her for 
support and comfort and sympathy in this trying hour, 
was no easy task. To cheer them when her own heart 
was heavy, to assert her belief that he was saved in some 
miraculous way, and would come in due time, was difficult 
for her to do, since her truthful nature disapproved such 
a course, and her own heart did not believe it. 


138 The Old House by the Sea. 

As sorrow and bereavement seemed doled out to them, 
she wondered if this was a retributive justice to her 
also, for her unkind reflections, and she once informed 
Hero, in a whisper, that she was heartily ashamed of her- 
self for calling Ralph the Great Mogul and some other 
names, for probably he was lying at the bottom of the 
ocean now. 

At last the doctor was called, against Aunt Pam’s ex- 
press wishes, she declaring “there wa’n’t much the matter 
with her, only her mind seemed wearin’ out, and she didn’t 
know ez she keer’d if it did — she nor Isaac hadn’t much 
to live fer now.” But just the same, the doctor left a 
strengthening tonic and some other medicines to abate 
the fever and regulate the heart. One morning Aunt 
Pam called Miriam to her bedside, and asked: “Dearie, 
do you believe in dreams ?” 

“I don’t know,” Miriam answered slowly, not knowing 
just what to say, so she asked, “Why, aunty?” 

“Wall, I dreamed las’ night, or it might ’a’ been this 
mornin’, seein’ it’s so clear in my mind, that the ship 
was broke into, ez the paper sed, but some way they wa’n’t 
all drowned, and that Ralph he jest pra3^ed and prayed to be 
saved, an’ was cornin’ hum tu us yit; he was all drippin’ 
wet, an’ his face wuz white an’ full o’ pain, an’ he wuz 
holden suthin’ ’nuther clus to him like it waz to be took 
perticler keer of, an’ he wuz on suthin’ that seemed safe 
and headed fer hum, tu. Then all of a suddint that 
changed ag’in, an’ I went right on a-dreamin’ that he 
never wuz on that ship, an’ hadn’t never left that furrin 
countr}^, but wuz cornin’ hum on some other ship. Now, 
M3Ta, which is it? fer it must be one or t’other,” she 
added, with an earnestness of tone and manner that told 
how strong she clung to the hope that it must be reality. 

“Poor dear,” thought Miriam compassionately, as she 
smoothed the pale cheek and white hair, “how can I con- 
sole her? How can I tell her anything I don’t know, or 
don’t believe? Dear aunty, I hardly know what to say, 
but I think I would believe he was saved by the other 
vessel that collided with her. Such things have happened 
many times^ and we often read of the other ship taking 


News of the Shipwreck. 139 

on board every one of the crew and passengers, and if he 
was saved, then we shall know very soon now, by that 
vessel coming into port with the survivors and reporting 
the whole disaster/^ 

‘^Do you rely b’Feve so, dearie?’^ 

^^Yes, I know so, aunty, for that is the way they al- 
ways do. Anyway, I would keep up a cheerful heart 
and hope for the best.^^ 

“Well, child, I reckon you know, fer you’ve been round 
the world a sight, young ez you are, an’ you must know. 
I declar, I b’l’eve I feel better sence you told me that, 
an’ now I’m goin’ tu chirk up an’ try tu live ag’in.” 

Uncle Isaac, who had been an unobserved listener in 
the next room, fervently but softly exclaimed: “The Lord 
be praised!” 

Whether it was the effect of the medicines, or Miriam’s 
consoling words that nerved the old lady to renewed 
strength from hope, was never known, but there certainly 
was a change and a decided improvement from that day, 
and she slowly but surely began to convalesce and soon 
was able to sit up in the “big chair” and be interested in 
her surroundings. 

About this time there was another rumor that a foreign 
ship had arrived in the harbor with more than double her 
original roll of passengers shipped at starting, because she 
had picked up a great number from a sinking vessel. 
Miriam immediately procured a newspaper which con- 
firmed the report, but which was very incomplete, as some 
of the victims were so ill they had been removed to the 
hospitals, and their names were not obtained. Miriam 
went out to the barn, where Uncle Isaac was trying to 
work, in his absent, discouraged way, and read the account 
to him. “Now, uncle, what do you think? Is it best to 
tell Aunt Pam or not?” 

“No, Myra! little girl. I don’t reckon it’s safe tu 
tell her jest yit. I know it would chirk her up powerful 
— make her most well, maybe; but we don’t know fer 
sartin ’at Ralph’s among ’em. He may hev been aboard, 
an’ tuck along tu one o’ them horse-pitals, an’ then ag’in 
he mayn’t^ an’ we don’t know nothin’ sartin ’bout it, an’ 


140 The Old House by the Sea. 

we don’t want to go tu raisen her np with false hopes only 
tu let her down heavy ag’in. I du hope tu gracious there 
won’t none o’ the neighbors come a-blattin’ around, like 
they did t’other time.” 

hope so, too, uncle,” Miriam assented earnestly, 
^‘and for fear they will, if they see this account, I think 
one or the other of us had better be on guard at the 
house and prevent them if they attempt to.” 

^^You are right, little girl, an’ I’ll see tu it that they 
don’t git the chance. When we know fer sartin I’ll be 
only too glad, then, tu tell her.” 

The subject of their anxious solicitude sat every day 
in the easy armchair, weak and pale, but hopeful still, 
and one day when Miriam combed and arranged the thin 
white hair, and put on the dainty lace cap, she exclaimed 
with a good deal of enthusiasm: ‘T du b’l’eve he’ll come 
home yit, Myra; I du re’ly b’l’eve it, an’ I’m goin’ tu 
keep right on b’l’evin’.” 

But now Miriam and her uncle were in a constant state 
of excitement and expectation. They read all the reports 
of arriving ships, and names of all passengers, but his 
was not among them. They watched for reprinted names 
of hospital convalescents, but to no purpose; and Miriam 
wrote to several of the physicans of those institutions, 
making particular inquiries, but received no reply. Hope 
sickened and died within them as week after week slipped 
by, and no tidings of the dear lost one could be obtained. 
Uncle Isaac’s supplicating prayers, so full of pathos and 
tears, so meek and lowly in his implorings for divine 
aid, were never omitted night and morning, although his 
poor heart was sore and broken and his faith tried as by 
fire. Once, indeed, the trembling voice faltered, began 
again, then suddenly stopped, and broke into a long,^ 
wailing sob that could not be repressed, and the prayer' 
was not finished that morning. 

Thanksgiving Day had passed away — oh, how dif- 
ferently from the way they had anticipated! 

Miriam talked it over with her uncle, and they both 
agreed there was too much trouble and grief in the house- 
hold to make any extra preparations^ or have anything 


141 


News of the Shipwreck. 

unusual for dinner that day. The hearts of all were too 
heavy, to make a mockery of the day and the name. The 
snow lay white and chill over all the frozen earth. The 
trees looked bare and grim against the wintry sky, and 
the song of birds was long ago hushed. There was not 
much improvement now in Aunt Pam. She seemed not 
to get any better, neither any worse; but she still kept 
hoping on, whenever she was asked how she felt. 

But one day, a tall, fine looking, elegantly dressed man, 
with an air of wealth and ease, and polish of manner, 
but exceedingly pale, came slowly walking up the old 
time-worn path from the gate, a small grip in his finely 
gloved hand, and knocked at the kitchen door. Miriam 
answered the knock, thinking it a neighbor come to in- 
quire after the sick, but without invitation he stepped in, 
and, lifting his fashionable tile, asked if Deacon Watson’s 
family lived there yet? Before Miriam could answer a 
word Aunt Pam just screamed, from the sitting-room 
where she sat, ‘^Oh, Ealph ! My boy ! My boy !” and sank 
Bobbing on the broad shoulders of the stranger, who gath- 
ered her up in his strong arms as though she were an 
infant, and sat down, still holding her, and dropping his 
tears with hers. Miriam looked on this strange scene awe- 
struck and speechless. This evidently was the Ealph of 
their long years of silent hopes and prayers — but they were 
both oblivious of any outside observer, and she heard, 
as she withdrew and closed the door reverently behind 
her, the broken tones repeat the words : ^^My poor mother ! 
My poor, sick little mother!” 

Then she flew to the barn to tell Uncle Isaac that she 
guessed Ealph had come — ^‘go to the house and see.” He 
did not wait for a second invitation, but dropped the com 
he was shelling for the chickens, and it scattered all over 
the barn floor, as he rushed out with the parting injunc- 
tion, ‘^clean it up, Myra.” He could easily have taken the 
prize in a race, for the swift strides he made to the house. 
Miriam thought the best way to clean up the corn was to 
call the chickens in to eat it, and she informed Hero, at 
the same time, that he must not smell of that elegant 
stranger again, because he was really and truly the Great 


142 The Old House by the Sea. 

Mogul, alive and in the flesh. She stayed out in the cold 
barn a long time, not wishing to disturb so sacred a scene 
as the one being enacted beneath that lowly roof. When 
at last she did return she softly opened the kitchen door 
and tiptoed past the sitting-room, where, as she glanced 
in, she saw three persons in mute and reverent attitudes, 
sitting on the old-fashioned settee, an aged parent on 
either side — one arm clasping the waist of his mother, 
the other hand being held and caressed by both the toil 
hardened hands of his old father. She passed on to 
the kitchen window, and looked out over the fields of 
drifting snow in the dazzling sunshine, and across the 
hills beyond, where in the valley below she knew her father 
and mother were silently sleeping beneath the white man- 
tle. Then she heard the low murmur of voices, and 
Uncle Isaac exclaimed: ‘‘The Lord be praised for what 
mine eyes have seen this day !” Aunt Pam’s tearful voice 
quavered, “Oh, my boy ! my Ealph. Now I shall git well ! 
You are here, never tu leave us ag’in, I hope.” Then she 
caught more distinctly the words in the rich, deep tones 
of the other: “Yes, father and mother, never to leave 
you again, my dear ones. Thank God I have found you 
both alive and well. You are all I have on earth, and 
I shall stay with you the rest of my days. I have brought 
with me besides, something that will prove my entire in- 
nocence in that miserable affair of years ago, and ample 
credentials attesting to my honorable and spotless life 
in the foreign land that has been my home all these weary, 
homesick years. I am what the world calls wealthy, and, 
please God, it shall be used for the comfort and happi- 
ness of the ones I love best on earth.” 

“The Lord be praised !” she heard in pious tones again. 
Then the gentle voice of Aunt Pam reached her. 

“Myra, my darling, where are you ? Come here, dearie. 
Ealph, I want you to git acquainted with your little cousin, 
who you never seen afore. She’s the best an’ dearest 
little girl ’at ever lived, an’ I dunno how we cud ever got 
along without her — she’s been jest the choicest blessin’ 
tu us all these lonesome years, she hez.” 

“Come in, little Myra; don’t be bashful,” Uncle Isaac 


143 


News of the Shipwreck. 

called. But Miriam did not respond. She was fearful 
she would not acquit herself creditably in the presence 
of the Great Mogul. But it was the Great Mogul him- 
self who came out in the kitchen after her, where she 
stood looking disconsolately on the whirling, sifting snow. 
She turned her large dark eyes upon his handsome face as 
he bent and kissed her. 

^‘So this is my little cousin Myra, of whom my mother 
has spoken so eloquently, but whom I never saw before. 
Has my wee cousin no welcome for me? Come, let us 
get acquainted,^^ and he put his arm around her to lead 
her into the sitting-room. 

Miriam’s welcome was a burst of tears, sudden, un- 
controllable, and sincere. In a flash she remembered 
all the raillery she had been guilty of against him — how she 
had firmly resolved not to like him. She even remem- 
bered what she said to Hero about the calf, and now, 
without a word, without the least show of fight, br.t with 
shameful defeat, she had surrendered unconditionally to 
the ^^Great Mogul.” Not correctly divining the cause, 
yet his chivalrous heart respecting a woman’s tears, he 
silently stood there with his arm around the grieving girl, 
and when she made an effort to control herself he ten- 
derly wiped the tears away with his own spotless handker- 
chief, and again in his rich, musical voice said: ^^Come, 
dear cousin, let’s be friends.” He slowly led her in to 
complete the family circle. Aunt Pam’s heart was full 
to overflowing with kindness just now. It always was for 
that matter, toward the motherless girl; but now she 
felt like encircling the whole world in her arms of love, 
in her gratitude for the restoration of her boy. She 
turned her wrinkled face toward Miriam as she entered 
with Ealph, that face no longer pale, but flushed with 
pleasure now, and reached out her arms: ‘^She is the best 
little creter in the world, Ealph,” she said, as Miriam crept 
to her side ; ‘^the very best. I can never begin tu tell ye 
all she hez done fer us two old people, nor all the money 
she hez spent on us, nor half, no, not half, the everyday 
livin’ blessin’ and sunshine she hez alius been tu ' us, 
since the day she cum here a mite of a child; and ye must 


144 The Old House by the Sea. 

love her lots, Ealph, ’cause she is yer cousin, ye know.” 

Ralph looked at the exquisite, flushed face she raised 
from Aunt Pam’s shoulder just then, and thought it 
would not be a very difficult task. 

Then turning to Miriam, she said, guess we had 
better hev a little dinner now, child, heddent we?” to 
which Uncle Isaac, who had been thinking of past sor- 
rows, and present blessings, solemnly responded: ^^Thank 
the Lord!” 


Ralph Relates His Adventures. 145 


CHAPTER XVIIL 

RALPH RELATES HIS ADVENTURES. 

The old lady called to Miriam as she was leaving the 
room: ^^Git the best in the house, Myra dear; git all 
that^s been laid away an^ kep’ so long, an^ bring out that 
fruit cake — and mince pies, too,^’ she added in a whisper 
that Miriam thought could have been heard in the wood- 
shed, and very soon the savory odor of well cooked food 
and the rattling of dishes was followed by the announce- 
ment of dinner. 

Then after the meal was over and they were all assem- 
bled in the sitting-room again, Ralph told then the story 
of his life from the time he ran away including all the 
details of his perilous escape from death on the sinking 
ship. 

“I suppose,^^ he continued, ^That the press here gave 
more or less exaggerated accounts ; but the fact is, that in 
a dense fog another vessel collided with us, and it is al- 
most a miracle that we were not all drowned. The humane 
captain of the ‘Oceanica,^ and his excellent crew, made 
superhuman efforts to save every soul on board of the 
fast sinking wreck, and I think they succeeded. She was 
bound for a foreign port, and of course the rescued ones 
had to go her way, unless lucky enough to be transferred to 
a barque returning in their direction. Some were trans- 
ferred in that way, but I was stricken with a fever, and 
delirium followed, and of course, my destination being un- 
known, I was carried to the foreign country with them. 


146 The Old House by the Sea. 

As soon as I recovered sufficiently to make the journey 
I was put on board another homeward bound vessel, and 
came on this time without warning or telegram, and here 
I am to stay while I live.” 

“The good Lord be praised !” again fervently exclaimed 
Uncle Isaac, with his poor old hands and eyes raised heav- 
enward. 

Miriam’s beautiful eyes were full of tears at the con- 
clusion of the strange recital, and Aunt Pam was sobbing. 
“How do you like your new cousin. Hero ?” she asked that 
individual confidentially, a short time afterwards. “I 
have changed my mind about him since his arrival, and 
now that I know him I think he is real nice. You know 
what awful designs I had against him at first? Well, I 
am glad he doesn’t know it; he can even have the calf, 
now.” It was a delightful winter they all spent together 
at the little snow covered farm. Many and interesting 
were the plans suggested and talked over, in regard to 
extensive repairs, rebuilding, and remodeling the old 
buildings, and putting into profitable culture the unthrifty 
land. 

Whenever the old couple remonstrated against such 
lavish expenditures of money as Kalph proposed, he would 
stop them at once by saying : “That is just what I brought 
it home for — to spend on you, and make you both more 
comfortable in your old age.” A new horse and carriage 
were among the necessaries on the list, and old Sorrel was 
to graze in solid comfort the rest of his natural life. 

Many a delightful sleigh-ride Miriam enjoyed with the 
Great Mogul, after the purchase of the new horse and 
cutter ; numerous were the parties and old-fashioned house- 
warmings given in honor of his “home coming,” as the 
good people expressed it ; but the fact that he was a wealthy 
man was the real object, and mothers were looking to the 
best market for their daughters. The old father and 
mother looked ten years younger than on the morning he 
walked in so unexpectedly upon them in their grief and 
woe, and now they were unspeakably happy all the time. 
Aunt Pam had long ago recovered entirely, under the potent 
infiuence of her son’s habitual presence. One day, to 


Ralph Relates His Adventures. 147 

Miriam’s intense astonishment, she received a letter with 
several postmarks upon it, indicating it had wandered 
around the earth considerably, in its search for her; but 
she was even more surprised when she read the name of 
Ernest Clifford affixed at the bottom of the page. His 
address gave his location in a distant city in charge of his 
parish. 

The letter was interesting, with vivid recollections of 
the happy period he had spent at the farmhouse, and par- 
ticularly in her delightful company. He gently chided her 
for her sudden departure that day, as there was something 
he had intended to say to her that evening in the gloam- 
ing. He gave some items of news concerning the family, 
and closed with the wish that she would kindly answer his 
letter, if it was not an unwelcome visitor. Though he had 
not written one line of love, yet she could guess pretty 
correctly what the words in the gloaming would probably 
have been. She scarcely knew how to write him. Polite- 
ness, of course, required an answer; but there was plenty 
of time, and she would think it over, and when she did 
she would answer it nicely. Having disposed of the 
troublesome problem to her satisfaction she went singing 
doAvn the stairs. The winter passed swiftly. Almost be- 
fore they knew it the happy inmates of the snowbound 
farm, up among those gloomy hills, saw indications of an 
early spring all around them. The huge white drifts slow- 
ly melted away, leaving great bare surfaces of field and 
meadow. How and then the twittering of a bird, and then, 
with many a scream and call, and rush, and rustle of wing, 
a flock of wild geese passed over, on their return from the 
sunny South. For the first time in her life Miriam re- 
gretted the winter’s ending — she had been so happy with 
sleigh-rides, parties innumerable, and skating contests, and 
always so tenderly cared for by handsome Cousin Ralph. 

^^Hever mind, little coz,” he said to her one day as he 
joined her at the kitchen window — the same window where 
he found her feeling so miserable that day so long ago — 
^^you need not regret if the snow is nearly gone and the 
winter enjoyment over. The bright sunshine will soon 
be here, and then we will have a handsome carriage and 


148 


The Old House by the Sea. 

just as delightful drives over the smooth country roads, in 
the shade of the spreading trees, as we ever had in the win- 
ter, when the snow flew, and the wind blew in all direc- 
tions.” 

‘^But I never felt cold once, Ealph, when I was out with 
you, if the weather was ever so cold,” she answered, smiling 
up in his frank, manly face. 

^^Yes, but do you remember how often I insisted in 
wrapping you up, even against your will sometimes, and 
attending to your general comfort, so you wouldn’t take 
cold, you fairy?” 

^^But I never enjoyed a winter so much in my life,” she 
said sadly. 

'^Well, just think what pleasures the summer has wait- 
ing for us, little girl, — picnics and excursions, sails on the 
lake, moonlight walks and talks, and — gush and senti- 
ment,” he added, laughingly looking down in her inno- 
cent, beautiful face. will see that you do not get 
lonely, Myra dear, even if you are out here on the farm.” 

‘‘1 was never lonely in my life, and I have lived here 
more or less since I was a child. I was always happy if I 
could be with aunty. But it was in the city, where every- 
thing was pleasant, and something alluring and attractive 
was ready to take my attention, that I grew lonely, and 
longed with an inexpressible yearning for the quiet of 
the little farm, and Aunt Pam.” 

A ^ave, tender look came into the dark blue eyes, and 
a white hand was laid very caressingly on the dark, curly 
head, as he bent and kissed her, and said softly, ‘‘You 
blessed little girl.” 

“What will you do with uncle’s old ‘dimicrat waggin ?’ ” 
she mischievously asked Ealph one day, after he had bought 
a stylish carriage. 

“Well, I don’t know,” he said ruefully; “I am almost 
afraid to touch it for fear it will follow the example of 
the Deacon’s wonderful ‘one hoss shay.’ What would you 
do with it?” he asked her, while he studied his father’s 
face. 

“I think it would be a good plan to put it on exhibition, 
price within the reach of all,” she replied. “Did you ever 


Ralph Relates His Adventures. 149 

hear it groan and shriek the minnte old Sorrel was hitched 
to it, and it knew it had to go somewhere 

“No!^^ he answered, as he caught the spirit, ^d)u.t I just 
moved it a little under the shed one day, and I jumped 
more than three feet, and looked down to see what on 
earth I had hurt, there was such a queer racket/^ 

^^Well, that was the old wagon, Ralph, and you had hurt 
its feelings/’ Then Myra told him how she had hoped 
his father would meet him at the depot with the dilapi- 
dated old thing, so he could enjoy the racket. 

“Wall,” .said Uncle Isaac slowly, “that ’ar old dimicrat 
hez done a power o’ travlin’ in its day an’ ginneration. 
It hez kerried me an’ your mother an’ you to the meetin’- 
house an’ back agin, hunderds an’ hunderds o’ times; it 
hez took us to christenings an’ funerals; it hez seen the 
water sprinkled on the livin’ baby foreheads, an’ on the old, 
wrinkled, worn-out bodies lower’d into the deep graves, an’ 
it ain’t never refused to du its duty — no, not once; an’ 
it’s no wonder it’s nigh about wore out, seein’ all the years,; 
it’s been a-doin’ of its duty.” 

“Well, father, it has done its duty long enough, and 
deserves a rest, and I think we had better make kindling 
wood of it,” said Ralph. 

“Wall, I dunno,” said the old man, reflectively. “It’s a 
purty good waggin yit, if it wuz only iled up a little an’ 
had a good coat o’ paint an’ a new set o’ springs an’ the old 

cushion stuffed over an’ the off hub ” 

“Oh, father!” Ralph interrupted, laughingly; “there is 
not a thing the matter with the poor old wreck, except it’s 
’ worn out, and we need another to replace it for farm work, 
and we will have one right away.” 

With the early spring, soft winds, and leaf and bud and 
blossom, and the tender green creeping everywhere, came 
another change. Miriam received, quite unexpectedly, a 
letter from the lawyer, saying he had expected her out be- 
fore this time, to at least look over her new possessions, 
also to conclude the few preliminaries necessarily attaching 
to its possession by her ; and as he was coming out on busi-, 
ness through that part of the country, he would certainly 
stop at the farmhouse^ to make arrangements for the ad- 


150 


The Old House by the Sea. 

justment of this last affair of her deceased uncle, and also 
give her an opportunity to visit the villa. He hoped she 
would consider the matter as final — expect him at any 
time and be ready to accompany him without delay. 

^^Whew Miriam exclaimed, as she finished reading it. 
‘‘He disposes of me in a very summary manner, without as 
much as by your leave, even. Suppose, Mr. Eoderic, I 
should take it into my stubborn head not to go with you ? 
I might possibly be a trifle particular whom I travel around 
the country with. I presume, however, that little point 
would be of no importance to your law propounding ethics. 
‘Consider the matter as final Well, I like that.” She 
flung the letter aside, and went out in search of Ralph ; but 
she did not find him, for he had gone out to investigate the 
dilapidated state of the fences. She found her uncle, 
though, sitting very comfortably in the old wagon, mend- 
ing an ancient rake. 

“Is that you, little Myra?” he asked, partly turning 
around as she came in view. 

“Yes, uncle; but don^t move — don’t, for the life of 
you !” 

“Why, child?” 

“For fear you will hurt the old ‘dimocrat’s’ feelings, and 
then it will groan again.” 

“Oh, Myra! how you do pester about that ’ar pore old 
waggin.” 


The Visit to West Lawn. 


151 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE VISIT TO WEST LAWN. 

At the first opportunity Miriam laid the cciitents of 
the letter before Kalph for his advice. He had heard all 
about the wonderful will from his mother, soon after his 
arrival. 

^‘^What do you think about it, Ealph?’^ she asked, after 
he had read the letter. 

They were seated on the lower steps of the old porch. 
^^You have never been out there yet?’' he asked in some 
surprise. ^^Hever have viewed the evidently magnificent 
estate left you unconditionally so long ago? Well, little 
girl, I must say you are strangely unworldly, and not very 
much like the most of your sex,” he answered. 

^^So much happened about that time, I could not have 
gone if I would, and I had no desire to leave these two 
old people in their sadness, for any selfish business of my 
own,” she answered earnestly ; ^Tut you haven’t told me yet 
whether I shall accompany this lawyer so far alone, or 
not?” she persisted. 

Then he turned and looked at her very seriously. ^^Ho,” 
he answered, don’t think I want you to take the jour- 
ney with a strange man, even though he was your late 
relative’s most confidential adviser. How would you like 
me to go with you?” 

She clasped his arm with both small hands. 

^^Oh, Ralph ! if you will go, I shall be positively happy. 
He is an utter stranger, you know’.” 

and you are a very beautiful young daro?el; who 


152 The Old House by the Sea. 

knows but the dried-up old skinflint might take it into 
his legal head to marry my small cousin/^ and he laughed 
merrily. 

“Ealph/^ she said severely, ^^you are perfectly ridiculous. 
I did have some faith in your judgment, but I believe you 
are getting in your dotage, — like the old wagon, for in- 
stance,” she added, as she snatched the letter from his 
hand and flew toward the kitchen, looking saucily over her 
shoulder and laughing. 

He looked after her admiringly. ^^Well, Ifll be blest ! 
If she ain’t the most fascinating, bewitching, tantalizing 
young cousin a big fellow like me ever owned.” Then he 
went to the barn. But the subject of that journey was 
still uppermost in his mind. ^T will arrange the plan 
of repairs with the workmen, so that I can be absent a few 
days, and I will accompany her,” he said to himself, very 
emphatically. 

A few days later the old lawyer put in an appearance one 
one pleasant afternoon, fastidously neat in dress, and fault- 
less in conversation and manner, and after a pleasant chat, 
announced that he had dispatched the business he had 
spoken of in his letter, and hoped Miriam was ready to 
accompany him on his return, as he wished to conclude all 
legal formalities and make the transfer of property to her, 
as her uncle advised. 

Miriam looked at Kalph. He nodded. ‘^Yes!” she 
said, ‘T am ready. When do you propose to start?” 

‘T think on an early train to-morrow morning.” 

Then Ealph spoke. ‘^My cousin has acquainted me with 
her plans, and as I own to a little curiosity on my part 
to see the home so generously bequeathed her, I have de- 
cided to accompany her.” 

‘Wery proper for you to do so, young man; very glad 
you are going to bear us company, as she would naturally 
want some one to chaperone her in a strange city. And, 
I own, that outsido of my business as an attorney I have 
very little time or inclination to devote to the fair sex, 
though I should have endeavored to make an extra effort 
for the niece of my respected client; but I consider yours 
a very satisfactory arrangement.” 


The Visit to West Lawn. 


153 


The hour being agreed upon for taking the train, the 
lawyer remarked that he would meet them in ample time 
at the station, lifted his hat, and departed for the hotel 
in the village. 

“Very nicely got along with, I am sure,” Ealph re- 
marked, as he disappeared through the gate — “not half 
the bugbear I imagined.” 

Next morning Miriam looked very sweet in her new 
traveling dress, as, after an early breakfast, she and Ealph 
were driven to the depot by Uncle Isaac, where they found 
the old lawyer restlessly pacing up and down the long plat- 
form, and the train not due yet for some minutes. The 
journey was through some of the loveliest scenery of the 
country. Ealph was surprised to find their companion so 
entertaining and pleasant. He explained to Miriam that 
the change was effected by his accompanying her, and there- 
fore she would not be a mill-stone around his neck. 

“Ealph, it’s not very complimentary to call me a mill- 
stone ; and the more I get acquainted with you, the more I 
am convinced of your ancient dotage. I do hope you will 
not get perfectly helpless mentally, before I return, for I 
should not know w^hat to do, with such an imbecile on my 
hands.” 

Ealph laughed, and remarked that in such a case he 
would inform the dear public that she was his wife and 
was trying to elope with the lawyer. “Oh, horrors I"’ 
Miriam exclaimed, with her face drawn very expressively. 

It would be impossible to describe half the beauties 
her uncle’s magnificent residence at Lawn Park. The 
furnishings were beyond description; seemingly nothing 
that the heart could desire, but w^as here in lavish profu- 
sion, selected by a refined mind and cultured taste — a rare 
and continuous dream of delight, ever new, ever pleasing 
to the eye. Even Ealph, accustomed to the glittering 
splendors of Australia, that land of gold and perpetual 
sunny skies, was entranced and speechless at this scene of 
more than Eden beauty. The legal gentleman watched 
them with a grim smile on his homely face. He had 
viewed all this elegance many times, for he was a fre- 
quent visitor on his client in his last illness. 


154 The Old House by the Sea. 

“Well, how do you like your new possessions?” he asked 
at length. 

cannot possibly find words to express myself,” she 
said slowly. 

''And you, Mr. Watson?” he interrogated. 

"I can only repeat my cousin^s words,” replied Ealph ; 
"everything is bewilderingly beautiful, worthy of even 
royalty itself.” 

"Every article is just as he left it, or rather as it was 
left after the elaborate funeral. Then I closed and locked 
the house myself, after dismissing the servants, and no one 
has ever entered its doors since then but myself. It is a 
satisfaction to me that it pleases you, and a happiness more 
than I can express that you have proved yourself so worthy 
of the conditions of the will, that gave me power to convey 
it to you.” 

Miriam turned, and grasped both his hands. "Believe 
me, Mr. Eoderic,” she said, very earnestly, "I cannot ade- 
quately express my appreciation of the high praise and 
exalted esteem in which you hold me. I feel unworthy of 
so much homage. I am only a common, ordinaiy girl, 
full of faults, like other people.” 

"I wish there were more just such common, ordinary 
girls then,” he said, as he looked down into her sweet 
face, a kind smile lighting up his dark features. "And 
now. Miss Percival, if you and Mr. Watson will accom- 
pany me to my office we will soon dispose of the few legal 
points in connection with the matter.” They did so, 
and the reading of the will and transfer of possessions was 
soon satisfactorily accomplished. "Allow me to inquire what 
are your immediate plans for the future?” with a sly 
twinkle in his eye, as he glanced from her to Ealph. But 
no conscious blush stained the fairness of her cheek, called 
forth by his words or manner. She was absently com- 
muning with herself — journeying, some time in the future, 
from the poor little farm, to this magnificent place, this 
Eden dream of loveliness; this exquisite bit of leaf, and 
bud, and blossom, of crimson sunset, and pearl clouds, of 
hashing waters, and murmuring fountains — and then in 
quiet golitude^ and self loneliness^ the journey seemed to 


The Visit to West Lawn. 


155 


return with her again, somehow, and stop at Aunt Pam’s 
kitchen door, and stay there forever. She looked up sud- 
denly just then, with an indefinable feeling that two pairs 
of eyes were regarding her keenly, which in fact they had 
been for some seconds. 

‘‘I don’t know,” she answered slowly, and perplexedly, 
^‘1 have not had much time to think what I will do. Some 
one who can be trusted must be engaged to take charge of 
the place until I can more definitely mature my plans.” 

“That is rather a difficult matter to compass to one’s 
entire satisfaction,” he answered slowly and thoughtfully. 
“It is easy enough to find some one for the task, but 
whether they could be trusted in a house like this, with 
every valuable easy of appropriation, is the important ques- 
tion.” 

“The very thought that occurred to me,” assented Ralph. 
“I don’t think such an arrangement wise.” 

“I\o !” Mr. Roderic replied, “neither do I. I have taken 
entire and particular care of the premises for so long a 
time, and nothing has been disturbed ever so slightly, that 
I should feel very unwilling to have other and careless 
hands undo what I have guarded with such honesty and 
integrity. In view of this, I will make this suggestion for 
the present, that under the circumstances, I will, if satis- 
factory to you, still take charge of it, until some other 
and better arrangement can be made.” 

The cloud instantly vanished from Miriam’s face, as 
she joyfully exclaimed, “Oh, Mr. Roderic ! just the arrange- 
ment I could have wished. I cannot find words in which 
to thank you. How I shall go home perfectly satis- 
fied.” 

“Well, if this adjustment is satisfactory, that is thanks 
enough.” 

“It is more than satisfactory,” Miriam exclaimed en- 
thusiastically. 

“Then we will consider the point settled,” said the 
lawyer, “and when you desire to make a different change 
you have only to apprise me of the fact.” 

The two travelers could scarcely interest themselves'in 
&ny other subject on the return home — the grandeur and 


156 The Old House by the Sea. 

beauty of the magnificent villa engrossed their thoughts. 
After their arrival, however, Ralph went steadily and 
swiftly forward with his work of improvement on the old 
home. Though he did not labor to any extent himself, 
yet his was the brain that originated, suggested and carried 
forward by earnest effort the work of others under his di- 
rection. The hurry and bustle and sound of sawing and ham- 
mering was heard from morning till night, and very soon 
the place put on an entirely different aspect. While the old 
cottage, so dear in Aunt Pam's eyes from old associations, 
was not very much altered, yet there were extensive addi- 
tions for beauty, as well as comfort and usefulness Con- 
veniences which she had never known in her life were 
added, and when it was done at last, in the eyes of these 
two old people it was a ‘Thing of beauty and a joy for- 
ever." The old bam was leveled to the ground and an 
entirely new structure erected in its place. New fences 
and every improvement that could be devised were adopted 
at once. 

All this pleased his father very much, with one exception, 
and that was, his lifelong frugal habits made him constantly 
bewail the lavish expenditure of so much money and the 
destruction of old worn-out things, which, his saving dis- 
position suggested, “could be mended up a little" — like the 
old wagon. But Ralph went right along spending money 
wherever he thought it necessary, regardless of his father's 
groans and despairing shakes of the head. 

“What will you do, my boy, when you want to git 
married?" he asked one day. “Ye won't hev a dime left 
ef ye go on this way much longer." 

“Don't you worry about me, father," Ralph stopped pat- 
ting the new horse long enough to answer. “I have more 
money now than you or I or mother and little Myra can 
ever spend in our lifetime, and she is already amply pro- 
vided for." 

“But will ye hev much left, when ye go fer tu git 
married ?'^ 

“I don’t know that I shall ever marry, father." 

“You don't mean it, Ralph; an' so many likely gals ez 
there is around the kentry hereabouts, aW thein ez ^owg 


The Visit to West Lawn. 157 

how tu work, tu, an’ would save an’ help ye alonff a power- 
ful site in life.” 

His father was evidently discouraged with Ealph, and 
concluded he would go to the house and ^^mend up that old 
rat-trap.” Just as Ealph promised Miriam by the kitchen 
window that blustering April day, when she was bewailing 
the loss of sleigh-rides, the lovely days had come, and with 
them the long, happy drives they took, all over the sunny, 
beautifully country. There were picnics in the cool, leafy 
woods; jolly basket excursions on the lakes; merry coun- 
try dances in the great clean, roomy barns festooned with 
flags and banners; and moonlight swinging parties, in a 
grove of giant trees on the farm of a near neighbor, where 
ample refreshments were served, amid laughter, jest and 
song. Nor were the old people forgotten or left at home 
in this whirl of fun and frolic. Many a happy time did 
they have, when Ealph arranged an excursion, or reunion 
of elderly people, where all were neighbors, old friends and 
acquaintances, and they would turn out in vehicles of every 
description, and in almost every variety of costume, 
accompanied with huge baskets of substantial eatables, 
cooked in their delicious, old-fashioned way. Then, later, 
came the distant and largely attended camp-meetings in 
the woods, amid the whispering leaves, cool shadows, sweet 
scents, and springing woodland flowers. Of course the 
whole country went to them, old and young. Many were 
the happy greetings of dear friends ; many the recollections 
revived between those who had not met before perhaps for 
years. 

With their deeply religious nature, a camp-meeting was 
always an extremely happy season to Aunt Pam and Uncle 
Isaac. “Next to goin’ to the meetin’-house, an’ a-listenin’ 
to the droppin’s there,” Uncle Isaac said, “he’d druther go 
tu camp-meetin’, where he heerd so much preachin’, an’ 
prayin’, an’ singin’ ’at it re’ly seemed tu bring him clusser 
an’ clusser to the poor, sufferin’ Saviour, an’ make him a 
better an’ a fitter Christian; anyway, he alius felt to be 
powerfully blest an’ refreshed afterwards.” 


1 58 The Old House by the Sea. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE YOUNG CLERGYMAN'S VISIT. 

Like the previous happy winter spent by Miriam in 
Ealph’s jolly society — happier than she could ever re- 
member a snowy season in her life — so, also, was the beau- 
tiful summer passing away. Care free, happy and inno- 
cent, her future assured financiall}^, never a cloud on her 
white brow, never a note of sadness in her laughter-loving 
young voice, she seemed enchanted with her surroundings 
and enchanting to every one with whom she came in con- 
tact. She still had her regular periods of keeping Ealph 
in constant remembrance of his dotage and alarming im- 
becility; and, on his part, he never failed to remind her 
of her intended elopement with the old lawyer, which he 
declared he frustrated just in the nick of time. It always 
had the magical effect of settling her ladyship, too, for a 
while ; and one day, when he asked her why she lacked her 
usual ready retort on these occasions, she turned her saucy, 
expressive face toward him, and said: 

‘^Because I can find nothing in the English language 
mean enough to express my utter disgust of the abominable 
accusation.^^ Then she fled to the house, and cautiously 
peeped out of the kitchen window, and beheld him holding 
his sides and laughing heartily. She could not refrain 
from informing him, on another similar occasion, that if 
he had behaved himself, he might have been the recipient 
of a great many of her secrets, for she had two or three 
she had never told him, But he had thrown the old 


The Young Clergyman’s Visit. 159 

lawyer up to her so often, and in such an outrageous man- 
D^^r, that she should never tell him now — never! 

“Well, little coz, don^t you really think you were some- 
what spoony over that ancient cuss, that day, when you 
held his hands so long ? I was actually quite shocked. I 
imagined his elderly embarrassment at being forcibly fet- 
tered and made love to by a fairy young e'nough to be his 
granddaughter.’’ 

She made no answer, but gave him a withering look, 
and the words “dotage, and second childhood” floated back 
to him as she disappeared on her cheerful search to find the 
eggs her aunt had sent her for. A few minutes later he 
heard her sweet young voice singing, away up in the 
fragrant haymow. 

“Bless that dear, innocent child,” was his silent thought, 
“she is as pure as the angels.” One day, returning from 
the field seated high and dry on a load of oats with Ralph, 
laughing and tantalizing him as usual, she heard the awe- 
struck tones of Aunt Pam say, as she slid down: “Keep 
still — there’s a minister in the house.” 

“A minister in the house I What the deuce does he want 
— a small contribution for the heathen ? — or something to 
eat?” said Ralph. 

“Don’t swear so, Ralph, or she won’t tell us another 
word,” Miriam declared. 

“I guess he wants tu see you, dearie ; an5rway, he asked 
if Miss Percival lived here, an’ if she wuz tu hum.” 

The lovely transient color lent to Miriam by exercise 
in the summer sun had suddenly fled, leaving her white 
and frightened. “Come in with me, Ralph ; do, oh, do !” 
she said, drawing her arm through his. “I want you to 
go in the house with me.” 

“Looking as I do, with these overalls and things on?” 

“Yes, and I am going in just as I am, with your mother’s 
old sunbonnet on,” she declared. 

“Agreed,” he said. “If you will, I will,” and away 
they went. 

During this colloquy Aunt Pam had preceded them to 
the house, and announced to the waiting Reverend that 
“Myra had just got in from the field on a load o’ stuff. 


160 The Old House by the Sea. 

an’ ez soon ez she changed her clus, an’ rigged up a little, 
she’d be in, she reckon’d.” 

The young clergyman could scarcely repress a smile, 
but he readily appreciated the quaint, unconventional na- 
ture of the dear old lady. But Miriam did not “change, 
or rig up,” but just walked in, simple and unaffected, gave 
him her little mite of a hand with the grace of a princess, 
and with evident pride introduced the handsome, stalwart 
farmer by her side. Ralph lingered a short time, then ex- 
cused himself with all the easy courtesy of a polished gen- 
tleman, and returned to the barn to acquaint his father 
with the state of affairs in the house, and finish the work 
of “drawin’ in,” as his father expressed it. Of course, 
after Miriam had chatted a while, and the Reverend 
Ernest’s attention had been drawn to some of the many 
beautiful fiowers in the tastefully arranged beds in the 
yard, she ran up to her little room and attired herself in 
a lovely, fiuffy white robe, in which she looked very sweet 
and graceful ; then they sat dovm on the long, shady porch, 
and visited. He gave her some items of interesting news 
and happenings in the Hughes family, among the most 
important of which was the paying off of the mortgage on 
the farm with some money that had been very mysteriously 
donated to them. 

His fine eyes lingered on her beautiful face. He saw 
the telltale flush that stained its marble whiteness, and 
noted the evident confusion she tried to conceal. Many 
long late visits they enjoyed on the moonlit porch, amid the 
whispering leaves, and in these quiet conferences Miriam 
* learned more of the sterling worth and exalted character 
of the young divine than she had ever given thought to 
all the time she had known him at the Hughes place. She 
gave him the particulars of the disposal of the criminals, 
and how the additional lot were caught at the now famous 
old house by the sea, which was quite interesting, as he 
had read disjointed and incorrect accounts of it in the city 
papers. Although she was more quiet in manner, more 
“ladyfied,” Aunt Pam said, since the minister arrived, 
there was a sweet, glad sparkle in her eye, a springing 
lightness in her step, and oftener now a vivid bloom on 
either fair cheek that had never been there before. 


161 


The Young Clergyman’s Visit. 

^^How long is his Eeverend highness going to hang 
around in these parts Ealph asked her one day, as she 
sauntered out to the barn. 

‘^Never having asked him, and he never having imparted 
that important bit of information to me, I could not tell 
you,^^ she said mischievously. 

‘'Well, why don’t you ask him, then?” he queried. 

"I will if you will promise to stand by your colors, when 
I tell him you particularly wish to know,” she said. 

“Well, I will; and now I dare you to ask him.” 

“I haven’t time now; I must hunt some eggs for aunt 
Pam to bake with — strictly fresh, you know,” she added 
saucily. 

“No, they are not for Aunt Pam either — they are for 
that other fellow in the house. It does beat all how many 
fresh eggs he consumes. Myra,” he added, as he saw she 
was about to open her mouth to reply, “I like him im- 
mensely, but I wish he’d go home; we don’t have half the 
good times we used to have before he came.” 

“But just think, Ealph, if he had come last winter, 
when we were having such grand times, it would have 
been worse ;” and she went poking around here and there, 
scaring off the hens and robbing their nests. 

The next day Ealph said to her: “I am going to draw 
in something from the field; don’t you want to go along 
and ride back on the load ?” 

“You know well enough you would not have to dare 
me but once, if the minister were not here,” she an- 
swered. 

“Yes, and he is likely to stay, I think, by the appearance 
of things.” 

“No, I heard him say he was going home next week,” 
she retoifed 

“Shades of the mighty! Is he, though?” 

“There you go again, Ealph. You got in an awful 
habit of swearing, out in the land of the kangaroos.” 

“And now, while I think of it, sis,” continued Ealph, 
purposely ignoring her last personal remark, “I want to 
advise you and the Eeverend to carry on your highly in- 
teresting conversation in a lower tone of voice on the front 


162 The Old House by the Sea. 

porch, for by listening carefully I can hear a good lot that 
is said. I don^t care for myself — I’ll try to bear it — but 
the neighbors might not want to be kept awake so much, 
you know?” 

‘‘Now, Ralph, there is not one word of truth in anything 
you have said, for you sleep in the rear of the house, while 
we hold that said interesting conversation on the front side ; 
and as for the neighbors, the nearest is more than half a 
mile away, and it stands to reason that we don^t disturb 
them one bit.” Nevertheless the sweet, white face was 
scarlet when she turned to go to the house. 

“Well,” he remarked to himself, “I guess I am about 
even with that small woman now. She didn^t even think 
to tell me of my dotage;” and an amused smile lit up his 
features. 

The two old people were entirely captivated with Ernest. 
His prayers were eloquent and soul inspiring, and Uncle 
Isaac said “it wuz ez good ez a campmeetin', jest tu hear 
him egspound the scriptur’.” 

Ralph, too, liked him very much, although he could not 
resist teasing Miriam unmercifully, sometimes, about him. 
He read aright the sterling worth of his character, his 
earnest nature, his ambitious aims, his exalted views of 
right and wrong, and he believed, too, in his everyday spot- 
less life and high and holy calling. 

x^nd one day when he had been prevailed upon to fill 
the pulpit for the occasion, Ralph no longer wondered that 
the slender young man was called the “silver voiced preach- 
er,” by both city and country congregations. The only 
cloud that rested upon his present and future horizon was, 
how they were ever going to live without Miriam? How 
they could ever settle down to the daily routine of dull, 
prosaic life without the merry, sprightly, laughing pres- 
ence that filled every nook and corner of the old farm- 
house? How could he ever live without that tantalizing 
spirit of mischief hunting him up, wherever he was, to 
spring some newly invented trick on his devoted head? 
When the winter came again, and the snow lay deep and 
drear over all the face of the desolate country, whom would 
he have then for a companion at all the social gatherings ? 


The Young Clergyman’s Visit. 163 

No one ! And would not the ringing, jingling sleigh bells 
remind him more vividly than ever of the dear little com- 
panion he had then, and whom this ‘^other feller’’ had 
robbed him of? 

For, although no word had been spoken, no consent 
asked, and no sweet confidence had been given by Miriam, 
yet Ealph was not so obtuse as to pretend even to him- 
self that he did not know or understand what the domi- 
nie’s prolonged visit meant there. Though he knew now 
he should never marry — for out in that far country of 
Australia was a little mound that the warm sun ever shone 
on, the grave of her who was dear as his own life, 
the daughter of a missionery to that land, whose golden 
head had lain upon his breast and whose warm young 
arms had clung to his neck when the blue eyes closed for- 
ever — he had had his little secret romance, that filled 
and thrilled and blessed his young manhood’s life and 
then suddenly blighted and darkened it — ^yet he could 
not bear the thought of losing this cousin, who had thrown 
such a beguiling enchantment over his prosaic existence 
as to make him forget some things, and take up life with 
a good deal of satisfaction again. He knew well enough 
that the dominie meant to carry off the rare sweet sun- 
shine of the old farm to light up his beautiful city home ; 
but as no word had been spoken he put off as best he could 
the evil day and its reckonings. But it came at last ! Mir- 
iam rushed out on the kitchen porch one day, and stood 
there with scarlet cheeks and clasped hands, and a very 
preoccupied manner. Sitting under a tree, playing with 
Hero, Ealph saw it all, read it aright, and groaned in 
spirit. There seemed to be quite a lengthy conference; 
then Miriam went in and his father came slowly out of 
the house, and walked dejectedly to the bam, and when 
he quietly peeped in afterwards, the old man sat there 
on an inverted bushel measure, his face covered with his 
toil-worn hands, and the tears slowly dropping through 
his fingers. 

Then Ealph and Hero went out in the orchard for a, 
walk, and no one will ever know the long, hard fight he 
had with himself ere he conquered, and returned, to all 


164 The Old House by the Sea. 

appearances, the same Kalph of a few hours before. Mir- 
iam and Ernest were out on the porch as usual. His 
mother was bustling around preparing supper, with tears 
in her dear eyes and suppressed excitement in her man- 
ner. 

^^Where’s father Kalph asked. 

^^He’s out to the barn, I reckon,” was her answer. 

When Kalph found him, he had left his seat, and was 
doing the ^“^chores.” 

“He wants to marry her, an^ take her right off tu onct,” 
began his father, without any preliminary broaching of 
the subject, which betrayed what was uppermost in his 
mind. 

“Who does?” Kalph asked, with a shameful pretence of 
ignorance. 

“Why, that ’ar preacher feller. I wuz afear’d on’t all 
the time, from the very fust of his cornin', but when I 
spoke to mother 'bout it, she 'lowed I should hold my 
tongue an' let young folks' business alone, an' now he's 
gone an' tuck her right under our very noses ; actilly asked 
my consent to give her tu him, an' the wust on't wuz, Myra 
wuz willin'.” 

“Well, father,” said Kalph, “I have been expecting it 
for some time, and surely she could not get a kinder nor 
a better husband. Everything is in his favor, as far as 
character, position and high vocation are concerned, and 
if she loves him well enough to be his wife we ought not 
to oppose it.” 

“Wall, how will it be with us when she’s gone forever,” 
wailed the poor old man, with eyes and voice both full of 
tears. 

“But she will not be gone forever,” Kalph insisted, 
bravely trying to cheer up the old heart while his own 
was so heavy. “She will not be so very far away, and she 
can come and visit us whenever she desires.” 

“Wall, she'll leave us when she gits married, an' it 
might ez well be forever, fer she won’t never be our little 
Myra no more. An' she's been with us so long, off an’ on, 
'at I kinder thought 'at she'd stay with us alius, an' here 
she’s goin’ ter up an’ git married, arter all. Wall ! Wall ! 


The Young Clergyman’s Visit. 165 

I dunno how we’re ever goin’ to git along without her; 
the old house will be lonesome ’nulf, I reckon.” 

^Tather,” said Ralph, ‘‘did you ever tell this preacher 
that Myra had any money or property of her own?” 

“Property, or money? No, sir-ee! Not I! I never 
once thought on’t, arter we commenced buildin’ an’ fixin’ 
up here. It went clean out o’ my head; but ef I had a 
thought on’t I wouldn’t a-told him. Why, my son?” 

“Nothing, father. I didn’t know but you had mentioned 
it. I am glad you have not, and I wouldn’t now, if 
I were you. Let our little girl surprise him, if she wants 
to. Better tell mother not to say anything either.” 

“I will, my son, I will,” he answered as he drew his 
shirt sleeve across his eyes. J ust then there was the clang 
of a bell, announcing supper. 

“Now, father, try to get over this before you sit down 
to the table. When you go in, bathe your eyes with cold 
water,” suggested Ralph, sympathetically. 

“I will try tu, my son, I will try tu.” 

That evening, in the gloaming, when they were exchang- 
ing tender confidences out on the porch, as usual, the 
happy rector said, as he leaned forward and took her hand : 
“Oh, little girl ! To think that you believed I was ignorant 
all the time of who the person was that paid the mortgage 
on the farm ; or who it was that paid the doctor the long 
standing bill for attending that poor blacksmith’s family ; 
or who sent comfortable clothing and delicacies to that 
sick child down in the valley, or the barrel of flour and wood 
to the widow and her family. Although no name was 
given, the description of the angel was, and that revealed 
all. And yet this same dear little girl thinks she is not 
good enough to become a minister’s wife — thinks I could 
find some one with a more exalted character, more digni- 
fied manner, better fitted for a spiritual companion. Mir- 
iam, my darling, I know you well. I have studied your 
character, with its high and generous impulses, under all 
circumstances and at times when you did not dream I 
was near. There was not a move you made but charmed ' 
me. I would not have you different if I could. I would 
not have you lay aside one of what you deplore as hoy- 


166 The Old House by the Sea. 

denish actions. To me they are all charming outbursts 
of your innocent, sparkling nature. Be as free and happy 
and mirthful all your life as you can — for there are years 
enough, and they are long enough, too, when sorrow can 
come an unbidden guest at our home, just as it does to 
others, and it will not be my voice that will ever restrain 
the natural exuberance of your dear, loving heart. I only 
hope to prove myself worthy of the precious gem I have 
won, and to be so kind, so tender, that you will never re- 
gret giving yourself to me.” 

'T never shall regret it, Ernest. I feel sure of it now. 
I only regret leaving this dear old home, where I have 
been supremely happy so many long years, and the true, 
faithful hearts who have loved and guarded and cared for 
me in their broad, unselfish devotion, nearly all my life. 
I cannot but feel regret at leaving them and Cousin Ealph, 
the truest, best cousin a girl was ever lucky enough to 
own. And it does grieve me, Ernest, more than I can ex- 
press, to leave these dear ones, knowing how they will miss 
me after I have gone, and how their hearts will ache 
when the final parting comes.” There were tears in both 
voice and words. Then his sympathetic tones tried to 
comfort her, as he assured her that she should visit them 
often, and whenever she wished, and he, too, would join 
her in these happy reunions, for he had no desire to bring 
sorrow or heartache into the lives of the ones so dear to her. 
Long they sat there, planning, hoping and picturing the 
happy future, for with youth, health, and love, all the 
possibilities of the whole earth seemed theirs. The rare 
sunburst of dawn, the fleecy, floating clouds, the blue 
bending heavens, the dewy world, the blooming flowers, 
even the perfume-laden air, all seemed expressly meant 
for their enjoyment just now, in their exclusive little para- 
dise. 

Everything had been settled with the old couple that 
day, many details explained and arranged, before Uncle 
Isaac went to the barn, his favorite place whenever any- 
thing troubled him, to grieve it out alone in his own pe- 
culiar fashion. And, while amid the whispering leaves 
and swaying vines of the old porch the young lovers are 


The Young Clergyman’s Visit. 167 

hopefully embarking on life’s perilous voyage, the old 
couple sleeping so peacefully have successfully weathered 
its storms and quicksands and floating wrecks, and with 
love still bright in their aged hearts, are slowly but surely 
nearing the haven of rest. The one knows already what 
the voyage is, the other is only joyously expectant. \Yith | 
the one, the rosy hopes lie all behind them ; with the other, 
the glimmer of pearls and the rainbow’s iridescent and 
alluring beauty, before. 

Well, it is best so! 


168 


The Old House by the Sea. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

THE ENGAGEMENT. 

The all important wedding, with its attendant details, 
had been talked over, hut the day had not yet been definitely 
appointed, as Miriam wished to confer with her aunt, and 
be guided by her in every arrangement. ‘‘Well, be careful 
that you do not delay the time too far in the future,” 
the Eeverend Ernest said, as they stood in the doorway 
the morning of his departure; “don^t postpone the happy 
day too long, for I need the inspiration of your sweet face 
and joyous laugh. Now, my darling, once more, good- 
bye. I see our Cousin Ralph is waiting very patiently, 
holding the lines, and probably wondering whether I in- 
tend to start to-day or to-morrow.” Then they parted, 
as Ralph told her afterwards, with a final salute that 
sounded like a clap of thunder in a clear sky. 

After his departure life moved along in about the same 
even ruts, except that there seemed a rift of quiet sadness 
in the air, and sometimes a surprise of dropping tears. 
The customary prayer, too, for many days after had a plaint 
of grief in its depths, and a questioning why the Rod 
should be laid so heavily upon them again as to take the 
“one shorn lamb from the fold.” These too apparent 
symptoms had a depressing effect upon Miriam’s sensitive 
nature, already smarting under her morbid conviction 
of unfilial duty in deserting them in their old age, even 
in marriage. So the subject of the wedding was not 
broached for some time, waiting until the domestic hori- 
zon cleared up a trifle. 

“What is the matter, little one?” Ralph asked one day. 


The Engagement. 169 

“Are you sick, lame, or lazy, or got a fit of the Hues, be- 
cause the dominie is gone 

^‘i^either one or the other/’ she answered. 

‘^Glad to hear it. Yon have been moping around so 
for a few days, thought something must be the matter. 
But seriously, little girl, laying all jokes aside, when is 
the wedding day to be ?” 

She dropped down beside him in the clean, roomy barn, 
and laying her bonny, graceful head on his knee, burst 
into tears. 

‘Y don’t know, Ealph,” she said presently. ^‘Of course 
it is left to me to decide, and I want to talk to aunty about 
it, and ask her advice and consent to all the arrangements, 
but I see so much gloom and sadness around me that I 
cannot nerve myself to say a word on the subject. It is 
not that I am in any hurry, but Ernest, in his letters, is 
constantly urging me to the point of action, and I feel 
perfectly miserable. That is the whole truth, Ealph. 
For my part, I would willingly delay the time, for I am 
very happy here, and always have been,” she continued, 
^^and more happy since you came home than ever before, 
you old darling; and I love you all so much, and feel so 
sorry to grieve any of you, that I cannot bear to speak of 
a thing that relates to the occasion. Yet I feel the neces- 
sity of broaching the subject to aunty, because I want her 
hearty co-operation, for Ernest insists on the marriage this 
fall, during the pleasant weather. What shall I do, 
Ealph?” 

Ealph did not speak right away — ^he was quite silent. 
‘Tie is probably thinking,” was Miriam’s inward com- 
ment. Presen tlv two tears splashed down on her forehead 
and then she knew. 

Without speaking, she looked up; the broad rimmed 
straw hat was drawn down — ^then a little silence crept be- 
tween them. Presently he spoke in low, sorrowful tones: 

will arrange it for you. You can trust me to say only 
the right thi^g, and then it will be easier for you to talk 
the matter over afterwards.” 

Up flew the white young arms around his neck in a 
tight hug: ^Uh, you dear, precious old jewel, if you only 
will, half the struggle will be taken off my shoulders,” 


170 


The Old House by the Sea. 

lie clasped his strong arms around her. ^^Oh, dear 
little Myra, how do you suppose I, and all the rest of us, 
are going to get along without 3^ou on the faiun, with 
your saucy, sprightly ways, and your ‘true as steeh young 
heart 

“Don^t, Ralph ; you make it all the harder for me, when 
the time does come, and I am trying to be brave now.'^ 

So Ralph spoke to his mother. He talked to her of 
the prospective change in the household — of Myra^s ap- 
proaching marriage — and though his mother’s tears fell 
fast, he wiped them away with his tender hand, while his 
own heart ached mth its heavy burden. He dwelt at 
great length on her love for them all the past years, of 
her tender, unswerving fidelity to them, yet of her sor- 
rowful regret at leaving the old place; and then he spoke 
seriously of the sensitive nature that was hurt and pained 
by their seeming reluctance and displeasure to the union. 
Then he enlarged on the exalted position of a minister’s 
wife, and the compliment (deserved though it was) of 
this gifted young preacher choosing a little country-bred 
girl from all the world, and lastly, how every one in the 
neighborhood would envy her and father, when they would 
take the train to visit the Rev. Ernest Clifford’s wife, in 
her grand city home. 

Before Ralph was half through her tears had ceased drop- 
ping, and when he finished, she visibly brightened, and re- 
sponded with animation: “Yes, so they will, my boy — so 
they will envy me. There’s the Sprigginses an’ the Browns 
an’ the Joneses an’ the Smiths, an’ the hull lot on ’em 
will feel real cut up an’ beat when they know our Myra 
is married fer sartin, an’ goin’ tu the city tu live ; an’ sich 
a lot o’ humbly old maids as is left behind, tu, an’ I 
ruther guess they’ll alius be old maids — leastways, they’ll 
alius be humbly enuff.” 

“Don’t oppose Myra any more, but plan and talk with 
her, and suggest about the wedding arrangements, for 
she don’t know anything about it, and you can aid her 
greatly.” Then he went out in quest of Miriam. Just 
then the barn door suddenly opened, and he entered with 
a cheery, “It’s all right, little woman ! You can go in and 


171 


The Engagement. 

gossip to your heart’s content. I’ve fixed it np, and mother 
is in prime talking order.” She still sat where he had 
left her, but now she sprang up, to give him one of her 
‘^embarrassing inflictions,” as he teasingly termed them 
to her. He lifted her in his strong arms, kissed her, and 
carried her, laughing merrily, to the house, where with 
an elaborate bow and a good deal of ceremony and im- \ 
portance, he introduced her to his mother as the Rev. Mrs. 
Ernest Clifford, Esq., at her service. 

The dear old lady looked over her “specs” at them with 
a pleased laugh, and said : “How you two du act ; you’re 
nothin’ but a couple o’ grode-up childem yit.” But Miriam 
knew, as she afterwards confided to Ralph, that that last 
ridiculous performance of his just settled the “hash,” and 
she was not afraid any more. After that the prepara- 
tions went along swiftly. They made plans and arranged 
and settled every detail to their entire satisfaction. The 
wedding was to be in the beautiful month of October. A 
brother clergyman of Ernest’s was to come out there to 
perform the important ceremony. Uncle Isaac was to 
give away the bride and Ralph was to be best man and 
stand up with the best looking old maid in the neighbor- 
hood. 

Miriam was busy from dewy mom till dusky eve, then 
she would sit down in her customary way, with her head 
on Ralph’s knee, to have a quiet chat, and ask his opinion 
about some of the arrangements. 

It was her desire to have a very quiet wedding; she 
wished to avoid wounding any one’s feelings by an imagi- 
11 ary slight. She hoped to go to her future home leaving 
behind the kindliest feelings with those with whom she 
had associated since childhood. So it was decided that 
all who wished should come to the church, but at home 
only the officiating clergyman and immediate family would 
gather for refi'eshments — and none but dear Aunt Pam’s 
wrinkled hands should help remove the shimmering silk 
and precious pearls, and robe her in her soft traveling 
suit. 

“I only disapprove of one thing, and that is the old maid 
you have inflicted on me/’ said Ralph, 


172 The Old House by the Sea. 

what is wrong with her?’’ Miriam asked inno- 
cently. 

“Oh, nothing much, only she is so mortal homely.” 

“Perhaps in her humble opinion, she is full as good- 
looking as you are,” she retorted saucily. 

Miriam was growing excessively weary with this con- 
stant excitement and work. She showed it in the grei»t 
dark eyes, and in the tired, listless attitude when in mo- 
mentary repose; and Ealph hoped, for her sake, that the 
affair would soon terminate. He often pleaded with her 
to take the old-time pleasant drives with him in the soft 
sunshine, but she always had the excuse that she was too 
busy, or could not spare the time. One day she surprised 
him by laying her little hand on his arm and requesting 
him to take her over the hills, to the quaint old cemetery 
in the valley — she said she wanted to go there before it 
was too late. He made no comment, strange as he thought 
the motive, under the circumstances, and only answered, 
“Certainly, dear Coz. I will get the carriage out imme- 
diately, so get on your duds.” 

The soft air, the warm sunshine, the sweet song of the 
wild birds, and the glorious beauty of hill and dale seemed 
to refresh her and efface the lines of care on her beautiful 
face. They stood at last by the two graves so familiar 
to her, and on the plain white slabs she read the inscrip- 
tion in old English letters. “I remember father very dis- 
tinctly, Ealph,” she said in a subdued tone. “I was ten 
years old when he died. But mother I have no recollec- 
tion of, I was so young. They tell me she was very beau- 
tiful. I often wonder if she will know me when the right 
time comes, for I was a baby then, and now I am grown 
up.” 

“Why, Myra, little woman, what is the matter with you ? , 
This wedding business is tiring you out, and you are get- ' 
ting nervous and blue.” 

“No, I am not blue, or sentimental, or sad, or in my 
second childhood, either,” she added, with the old-time 
spirit, “but the thought has often come to me in the years 
past, and to-day I thought I would ask you what you 
thought about it. Will I know my mother too, Ealph?” 


173 


The Engagement. 

^^Myra, dear, blessed little cousin,” Ralph answered 
solemnly, ‘‘rest assured, that in that higher and better 
and purer world your mother’s heart will know her own, 
and you will know your dear mother, and the recognition 
will be complete and perfect; but put all such gloomy 
thoughts far from your mind, child, and especially 
now.” 

“It is not a gloomy thought, but an inexpressibly happy 
one, for I have sometimes felt doubtful; and you have 
given me a different view.” 

Ralph was deeply touched, and silently led the way 
through the tangled and somewhat neglected place, out 
to the roadside, where the carriage waited. They did 
not return directly home, but drove slowly around through 
the pleasant tree-lined roads, and oh, how vividly it 
brought to his mind the same routes over which he had 
traveled the previous winter, snow bound and frosty, with 
musical bells, and merry, ringing laughter, with the most 
beautiful, mischievous, tantalizing fairy that ever tormented 
a mortal. Who would be his escort another winter? he 
mused. No one ! He felt sure of that. He would prob- 
ably sit by the fire, and listen to his father and some 
neighbor murder the English language, talking about the 
crops, or the weather. His unhappy reverie was broken 
by Miriam asking: “What in the world is the matter, 
Ralph? You are as solemn as a horned owl, and look 
exactly like one. And you haven’t spoken one word in 
at least ten minutes. You are not seriously thinking of 
getting married, too, are you?” 

“Well, no! At least not to that abominable old maid 
I’m going to stand up with you at your wedding,” he 
answered. 

“What a ‘pesterin’ feeling’ you have against that poor 
old maid, aunty would say, if she heard that remark. I 
picked out the best looking one I could, and there is this 
comfort— even if she is homely she will bear any amount 
of waist encircling, and not object once.” 

“Yes!” responded Ralph, slowly and reflectively,, “I 
don’t know but she does look about as well as the old 
lawyer.” 

“Ralph, I'll tell Aunt Pam.” 


174 


The Old House by the Sea. 




CHAPTER XXIL 

THE WEDDING HOKNING. 


All the preparations thrived, 

And the wedding day arrived: 

Pale, but pensive, moved the mother, and the father with a smile 
Broad and genial as the summer, 

Gave a welcome to each comer ; 

All things moved on golden hinges, all went merry for awhile. 

— Trowbridge. 


Never shone the sun brighter, never was the air softer 
or clearer than on this beautiful autumn day, when Miriam 
would, in a few short hours, stand at the lowly vine- 
wreathed altar and pledge for life and for death to the 
noble looking man beside her. Ernest had arrived two 
days previous, and the old clergyman who was to perform 
the ceremony came on a late train the evening before. 
Everything was in a state of perfect and satisfactory com- 
pletion. The groom looked exceedingly handsome in his 
wedding garments. 

Miriam was still in her little room, so soon to be deserted 
forever, and the elderly bridesmaid was assisting to robe 
the slender girlish form in her costly finery. Very beau- 
tiful she looked, too, in the delicate silk, with the neck- 
lace of costly pearls (Ernest’s gift) clasping the small 
white throat; very fair and lovely, as she came slowly 


175 


The Wedding Morning. 

into the room and greeted the officiating rector. Ernest’s 
keen eyes drank in all her wondrous beauty at a glance, 
and with pardonable pride thought how soon that peer- 
less creature would be all his own, for weal or woe, through 
life. Then the carriage started for the church, which 
kind and interested hands had profusely decorated for 
the occasion. It was full to overflowing. A wedding 
was quite an event in that prosy uneventful place, and every 
one was anxious to see the tall, fine looking groom, who had 
made such a favorable impression upon them, by the few 
eloquent sermons delivered from the old time-worn pul- 
pit just a few short weeks ago. 

^^He is goin’ ter take off the purtiest girl in the hull 
kentry,” remarked the burly blacksmith to the grocer, as 
they took their seats near the door, just as Miriam, with 
her daintily gloved hand on Uncle Isaac’s arm, passed 
down the loug isle to the altar, where they were joined 
by Ernest and the waiting clergyman. When the solemn 
ceremony began not a whisper was heard in all that vast 
assembly. 

Uncle Isaac, wuth tears in his eyes, quite gracefully, 
for him, gave away the bride according to drilled instruc- 
tions. Ealph was grace, courteous attention and polite- 
ness personified to the old maid, but with an amused 
twinkle in his expressive eyes, when he noticed the lofty 
proprietary air with which she accepted his gallantry. 

The wedding dinner was elaborate and generous, but 
the guests were only their own household, wuth the excep- 
tion of the spinster and the cler^man. It was Aunt Pam’s 
trembling fingers, too, that tried to disrobe her darling, 
and put away the sheeny silk and costly laces, and robe 
her again in her traveling dress. Then she asked to be 
left alone a few moments; and as the slow, faltering foot-, 
steps passed down the stairs, she sat down on the side of 
the white-draped bed she would never more occupy, and 
looked around the pleasant room that had been hers since 
childhood and which she was now going to desert for- 
ever. Each little homely, familiar object was dear to 
her; each had its own particular memory and associa- 
tion. 


176 The Old House by the Sea. 

She touched with reverent, loving fingers, every separate 
object that but yesterday had been hers, in her careless, 
thoughtless girlhood. Yesterday ? It seemed so long ago ! 
And now she was bidding them all farewell. She looked 
in at the dismantled closet, where so lately had hung her 
pretty dresses, and out of the one window, across the sunny 
slope of the farm, where so often her girlish e5^es had 
rested. She was a wife now, and must put away childish 
thoughts, and be sedate and womanly, as became a min- 
ister's wife. 

And then, kneeling with the bonny head lowly bowed, 
she sent up a lonely, piteous prayer, that she might ^^not be 
found wanting," but always be seen walking earnestly 
in the path of duty, and be truly a helpmeet to the good 
man who had chosen her from all the world. Then a quav- 
ering voice at the foot of the stairs said, ‘^Come, dearie, the 
dinner is getting cold." It was Aunt Pam, and she arose, 
bathed her eyes, and went quietly down among the waiting 
guests. She felt so odd, sitting beside Ernest and being ad- 
dressed as Mrs. Clifiord by the old rector. Then came the 
tearful parting with the dear ones — no stereotyped words, 
no hackneyed phrases, but just the honest outburst of grief, 
mingled with smiles and good wishes. The old maid threw 
rice, but the old pair of boots which Ralph declared ho 
would throw could not be found, for the very good reason 
that Miriam had carefully hidden them the night before. 
There was a whirl of wheels, the flutter of a bit of lace and 
cambric, and they were gone, Ralph himself taking them 
to catch the afternoon train. When he returned he ver}'' 
slowly turned the horse out to pasture, and then went 
out across the fields to where there was a big rock, to be 
alone with a sorrow that had stirred the deep waters of his 
soul. He knew that the beautiful girl would appear among 
them no more except as an occasional visitor, and he felt 
that all the airy brightness and sunshine had gone out of 
the old farmhouse with her forever. He had often tried 
to think how lonely it would be. While she was there, a 
laughing, tormenting sprite, it was not easy to realize 
it; but he did now, and he knew it would only be more 
and more of a gloomy certainty, as the weeks went by. 


The Wedding Morning. 177 

ITever since the earth closed over the fair golden head, in 
the green mound in far-away Australia, had he had any 
cause to grieve over anything. That was a sacred and 
ever remembered sorrow, one that he had covered up and 
hidden from all the world, never speaking the dear name 
aloud, never alluding in the slightest manner to this ten- 
der, sacred memory in his life which he had buried deep 
in an agony of tears. But when he came home he found 
that bewitching, tantalizing elf, and she had unconsciously 
twined herself around his nature, brought him out of 
the gloom and grief in which he had encased himself so 
long, and made life tolerable once more, only to be wooed 
and won by another right under his very eyes, and, as 
his father had said in his grieving vent in the barn that 
day, ‘The wust on’t wuz, Myra wuz willin.^ He was 
glad now to remember that he had hidden from her his 
owm pain, readily granted her wishes, entered into her 
little schemes, and effected reconciliations which would be 
for her happiness. Well, it was all over now. No bitter 
reflections or regretful tears would effect a change, bring 
back the past, or efface the present. He arose and looked 
around him. He had no idea how long he had sat there 
on that old gray boulder, but it was darkness now that 
lay over the farm w^hen he retraced the crooked path to 
the house. A solitary lamp was burning on the sitting- 
room table, and beside it the open Bible, with his father^s 
“specs^^ folded and laid in, and beneath them were the 
words, “Come unto me, all ye that are weary, and heavy 
laden, and I will give you rest.^^ But the reverent couple 
who had read them were asleep long ago. The elderly 
damsel, too, had gone home. If she had possibly expected 
him to escort her safely to the parental domicile she was 
doomed to disappointment, for he had forgotten her very 
existence. Of course, Ealph was considered a great 
“catch^^ in the country neighborhood — ^handsome, polished, 
courteous to all, and withal so wealthy, not a girl who 
knew him but would gladly have changed her name for 
his, and most willingly have shared his money also. 

But when another season of winter gayeties commenced, 
no slender form was ever tucked in the warm robes, and no 


178 


The Old House by the Sea. 

laughing face ever flashed beside him, for the world held 
only one beautiful being, and that one did not belong to 
him. Life at the farm had settled down in about the 
same old ruts, after the departure of the young couple 
on their bridal trip, and then it was broken by a letter 
from the dear girl, describing all the beautiful places 
through which they had passed, and all the notable spots 
they had visited, but best of all was the utter and complete 
astonishment of Ernest when he learned the truth about 
West Lawn. When she ushered him into the villa, which 
Mr. Eoderic (having been previously apprised) had opened 
and was present to receive them, and whom Ernest natu- 
rally supposed was the relative she referred to, he im- 
mediately began to ^^uncle^^ him quite affectionately ; then, 
when he learned his mistake, he began to wonder why 
the inmates did not appear and welcome them — or, if not 
at home, was not this an inexcusable intrusion, in entering 
their domains in their absence ? 

She could conceal her laughter no longer, and when he 
looked up in utter amazement she informed him that 
this was their future home — no aunt or uncle about it' — 
but that she was its owner and future mistress. She said 
he stood there in silence for a moment, then sank into a 
chair and looked at her with wide open astonished eyes, 
as though doubting her entire sanity ; and it was only when 
his dazed eyes read the words of the will, and saw the 
enormous figures in the bank book, in her name, that he 
found voice to say in a subdued tone, ^^Miriam, God knows 
I thought I married a poor little country girl, who de- 
pended only on her small salary for her living.^^ 

She concluded her interesting letter by stating the proba- 
ble time of their arrival home. Then Miriam, noticing 
the still, serious expression of his face, said: ^‘Why, you 
donT contemplate a separation, on account of this prop- 
erty, do you, Ernest 

He looked very grave, as he answered, had no thought 
that you were wealthy ; what will the world think T’ 

^‘What do we care what the world thinks,’^ she answered, 
^^as long as we know and are both happy. We live in a 
little world of our own, just now, though the other name 


179 


The Wedding Morning. 

the irreverent world gives it is the fool’s paradise,” and 
again her musical laughter rang through the great rooms. 
‘‘But seriously, Ernest, this is our home, and must bo 
occupied to be taken care of. I cannot burden Mr. 
llcderic with the troublesome charge of it any longer, 
and I think it would be very nice to come here to live 
permanently. Why not ?” 

“Why not? You little unworldly woman, there are 
weighty matters to be compassed before such a step could 
be taken. I could not leave my parish so suddenly, and 
honorable arrangements must be made first; we will not 
decide hastily, love.” Soon after this conversation they 
turned their happy faces homeward. Miriam expressed 
an earnest wish to return by a circuitous route, and stop 
at Walton Cut, the scene of the tragedy of her life, for 
she had promised the old lady that she would surely visit 
her some day. 

One bright morning they stepped from the train at the 
wayside station, and walked over to the cottage. She was 
overjoyed to see Miriam, but was somewhat embarrassed 
in her greeting when Miriam introduced her husband. 
“To think you’re married, dearie; and not much more nor 
a child yourself,” she said, at the first opportunity when 
they were alone. “An’ tu a minister, tu ; not but that ye’re 
good enuff fer him, or fer the best in the land, but whar 
in creation did ye git sich a good lookin’ one?” Miriam 
laughed amusedly at the honest question. “Now set right 
here whar I kin look at ye an’ hear ye talk, an’ tell me 
everything whilst I git ye suthin’ tu eat, fer ye both must 
be powerful hungry. I declare for it, it does my old eyes 
good, jest the sight on ye; thought ye had clean forgot 
all about us. You’re goin’ ter stay all night? Why in 
course ye are ; hope ye don’t think we’d let ye go away ’fore 
’nuther day or tu, nohow. See the old man down to the 
Cut when ye got off ? Oh ! he’ll be powerful glad tu see 
ye tu; many’s the time he spoke ’bout what happened tu 
the railroad that night. Didn’t see Pete, did ye? Wall, 
he must ’a’ ben inside sommers. He’s shinin’ round «a 
girl nowadays, tu.” The good old creature rattled on, 
giving general information, and asking questions, while 


180 The Old House by the Sea. 

she trotted around getting the ^^suthin’ to eat’’ she 
promised. ‘^Hev ye any idee whar yer man is ?” she asked 
^ a few minutes later — ^‘^fer these ’ere biscuits is smoken hot 
and the meat jes’ tu a turn, an’ t’ain’t no good ef it stan’s ; 
orter alius be eat when it’s red hot, tu be good.” Just 
then Ernest came sauntering in, and the ^^red hot” lunch 
was spread on the snowy cloth in the sitting-room so 
familiar to Miriam. They both did justice to the appe- 
tizing food, their hostess talking all the time and detail- 
ing to Ernest the particulars of the Cut that night, and how 
Miriam '^saved the railroad.” 

^^We will go down there after lunch and look around,” 
he said. 

‘‘Yes,” she assented. 


Home Again. 


181 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

HOME AGAIN. 

Soon after, they walked down, Miriam showing him 
the very place where she was tied near the instrument — 
(Tom Hall had recovered and sat there now) — the window 
where the Winchesters were thrust through, with the order 
to the masked villains, and when they went outside, the old 
baggageman, with considerable pride and importance, 
showed Ernest the place where the rail was broken and 
the switch ruined. 

“I tell yer, mister, say what yer min’ tu, the hull darned 
railroad, an’ everybody else, fer thet matter, owes thar 
precious lives to that thar blessed little wife o’ your’n, 
fer sendin’ that message thru’ the thunder an’ lightenin’ 
an’ storm, an’ so we alius sez tu this day hereabouts.” 

Miriam blushed and turned away, but Ernest looked 
with loving pride at the slender girl, who sat with modest, 
averted face. She pointed out to Ernest the village of 
Walton, across the fields, nestling in the sunshine among 
the tall poplars, and told him how often her tired, home- 
sick eyes had rested on its sloping roofs, and windows 
glittering in the rays of the setting sun, that summer 
that now seemed so long ago. They wandered around, 
admiring the lovely rural scenery, she relating something 
of interest at every pause, until late in the afternoon, 
when they again entered their hostess’ clean, roomy 
kitchen; and it was a really enjoyable evening they passed 
at the cottage, the old man coming home earlier than 


182 The Old House by the Sea. 

usual, and in their quaint, old-fashioned way their guests 
were entertained royally. Again, as once before, in her 
sickness, Miriam was assigned the honor of the parlor 
bedroom, though the vines which hung thick and luxuriant 
then, over the window, were dead and brown now, and a 
little farther back, all that was left of the purple blooms 
of the lilac were a few dead seeds. 

After an excellent breakfast they were ready to take the 
morning train that left the Cut ; the old lady accompanied 
them to the station, and many were the repeated invita- 
tions for them to return another summer for a longer visit. 
Miriam shook hands with her hostess last, and as she left 
something in her hand, she whispered, ^^Don’t look at it 
until you get home. It is something for yourself and 
husband. And while she was looking in a dazed way 
at the envelope she held, Miriam and Ernest were safely 
seated in the moving train, and whirling away in the 
distance. 

As soon as she could collect herself, she beckoned to 
the old man, and whispered something ; whatever its mys- 
terious import was, he hastily gave orders to Tim to see 
to things, ^^heM got to go hum a minnit.^^ Once in the 
iseclusion of the house they opened in full what she had 
previously peeped into, and found two one hundred dollar 
bank notes. ‘^Did ye ever in your hull life exclaimed the 
old baggageman; ^^an^ this ’ere, I s’pose, is what it reads, 
but I ain’t got on my specs, ole woman, so you read it.” 

‘‘A present for yourself and husband, for whatever use 
you wish to put it to. Your grateful friend.” 

^‘Grateful ! What hez she ter be grateful tu us fer ? 
I guess it’s on t’other side — we ortu be grateful tu her.” 

^^She is jest one blessed little creter, ef thar ever wuz 
one,” said his wife. 

^Tt seems tu me, ole woman, thet this ’ere hez cum jest 
in the nick o’ time ; we lost the best cow only a little while 
ago, an’ the colt is so poorly, an’ the old mare was needen 
better feed than I could afford tu give her this winter, an’ 
the roof a-leakin’ with the fall rains, an’ this will help 
us out jes’ powerful.” 

^^Yes, Israel. She said it wuz fer both on us, so here 


183 


Home Again. 

— ^you take one an’ fix np with it, an’ I’ll take t’other an’ 
lay it away for a rainy day. Seems jes’ as ef she knew 
what our wants an’ needs wuz, don’t it? What is it the 
Bible sez about entertainin’ angels unawares, Israel?” 

‘^Thet thar man o’ hern must be orful rich ter give her 
so much money ter throw around loose and careless,” was 
Israel’s irrelevant answer to his wife’s pious inquiry. 

While this domestic problem was being satisfactorily 
adjusted by the worthy couple, preparations were being 
made, in hourly expectation of the dainty bride at the 
farmhouse for a few days, to make the place ring again 
with her laughter and merry voice. It was not long ere 
they arrived. 

Miriam was glad to get home ! She had so much that 
was interesting to tell them about the beautiful places they 
had visited, and the lovely things she had seen; but it 
was only for a brief time — then Ernest returned to his 
church in the city, where the loveliness of the bride was 
the topic of conversation in many homes. • Her sweet 
simplicity of manner, her practical charities among the 
suffering poor, sought out and administered by her own 
hands, caused her to be loved by both rich and poor. But 
there came a day when all final, favorable, and regretful 
arrangements, also, had been made, when the eloquent 
young clergyman and his beautiful wife would leave them 
forever, for their distant home, where he hoped to do far 
more for the Master and His people than he had ever 
done here. That day would ever be remembered, for the 
church was crowded to its utmost capacity to hear the 
last tender words and eloquent farewell of the silver- 
tongued preacher, as he was familiarly called. He seemed 
almost inspired, as he stood before that breathless, waiting 
congregation, with his pale face, soft, sympathetic voice, 
and personal magnetism of look and manner, and talked to 
them, on the last day he would ever be among them ; many 
a head was bowed, many a sob that could not be repressed, 
was quite audible, for he was dearer to his people than 
they knew, until they were about to lose him forever. 
There were very few but had some sacredly tender memor}' 
connected with him in their own family, when their tears 


184 The Old House by the Sea. 

had been wiped away by his own soft hand, and his musical 
voice, with its sad cadence, had comforted their grieving 
hearts and bound up ‘‘the bruised reed’’ with love, and 
kindness and encouragement. Some had a vivid recollec- 
tion of the draped bier, the open grave, the slow footsteps, 
the dropping tears, the low tolling bell, and the solemn 
words, “I am the Resurrection and the Life.” 

Others, too, remembered, and always would, with an 
eternal gratitude of heart, how he had taken them kindly 
by the hand when their life v/as going wrong, and their 
friends “passed them by on the other side” with averted 
face ; how he had reached down and pulled them out of the 
mire, set them firmly on their feet, and talked to them as 
a friend, and fellow-sinner with them; how he had aided 
them financially, as well as by prayer, and eventually made 
good men, and upright women of them ; and they wondered 
how they could still go on in the uneventful tenor of their 
lives, without the wine of his words, and the example of 
his life to keep them right. 

They passed a few days at the old home, before final 
departure — days full of contentment and pleasure to 
Miriam, in which she renewed her old-time bickerings with 
Ralph, and if he hesitated ever so little to retort, she would 
immediately taunt him with, “You don’t dare, because 
there is a minister in the house.” Many a tilt they had 
when Ernest was also present. 

Sometimes Ralph would tell her that he had never 
noticed an instance of her being quite so spoony over the 
dominie, as she was that day over the poor old lawyer. 
At that stage of afl^airs, perhaps. Aunt Pam, laughing at 
the spirited contest, would push her specs high up over her 
cap border, and say, “Oh, Ralph ! don’t pester the child.” 

Then Miriam, pointing a warning finger at him, would 
say, with many a tantalizing nod, “Didn’t I tell you so ?” 
How swiftly time passed. More than ever now, Miriam 
walked after her aunt, as she used to when a child, and 
talked, and visited, and tried to think of everything she 
wished to say, before it was too late, for the time was 
fast approaching wheu they would take their long-expected 
departure. 


185 


Home Again. 

^^Dearie,” her aunt said, one day, ^‘1 locked up your 
room after you went away, jes^ ez I did Ralph^s thet time. 
I didn’t want enny one tu go in er tetch a thing your dear 
fingers hed said good-by tu.” 

“I am glad you did, aunty. I wish you would keep 
it locked. That pleasant, cosy room of my innocent child- 
hood and careless happy girlhood, is dedicated to sacred, 
loving memories, and I want it kept so.” 

^Tt shell be, dear. Jes’ as ye wish, so it shell be kep’.” 

Miriam made many plans and calculations on a fam- 
ily reunion every year, either at the farm or the villa, and 
insisted that the old couple, with Ealph, must spend the 
coming Christmastide with them, in their new home. 
Then they urged Ealph to come out often and spend most 
of his time with them; but though he half promised, he 
persisted in the one point that his father and mother were 
old and needed his care, and he should stay with them 
while they lived. If they ever decided to take the trip 
he would accompany them. 

Very soon the packing of boxes commenced in earnest, 
and the happy, happy days under the old roof would sud- 
denly end now. Miriam shed many tears in a quiet nook 
on the haymow, where no eye could witness her grief, 
over the certainty of leaving forever the humble home that 
had been hers so many years. How she would miss Aunt 
Pam as the weeks went by, and how often she would think 
of something she had forgotten to say to her in those last 
days. Probably she would never climb up there again, in 
her eyrie among the rafters; probably, too, the hens would 
be glad of it. Going into the house she encountered the 
old lady, packing something for her comfort in her future 
home, and tears were falling fast upon them. Clasping 
her young arms around the dear neck she had so often 
caressed, she said: 

‘^^Dear aunty, before I leave you, I want you to promise 
that if you are ill or in trouble, you will certainly send 
for me, or if at any time you desire me to come for any 
reason, promise me you will write, and I will allow nothing 
fo prevent my coming.” 

^'The Lord bo praised !” came from an adjoining room, 


186 The Old House by the Sea. 

"I will, dearie, for I know my old heart will get so 
sore for a sight of my darling, that I shell hev tu send fer 
her tu come hum tu cheer me a bit/^ 

It was a sorrowful and silent group that gathered around 
the breakfast table one morning, and their appetites seemed 
to correspond with the general depression; each seemed 
to instinctively avoid the one subject all were thinking of, 
yet they made a complete failure to attempt another. At 
last the moment came for the tearful farewells, the last 
lingering look, the caress, repeated again and again, and 
then they were gone. Hero with them. Aunt Pam wearily 
climbed the long stairs to get a more lengthened view froc'. 
the chamber window, watching and listening with strain- 
ing ear and eye for the last faint sound of the bells, and 
the last hoof-beat, far down the long, lonely, snowy street. 

Then she descended to the kitchen, from which all 
sunshine and laughter and music had suddenly fled for- 
ever. 


The Old House by the Sea. 


187 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE OLD HOUSE BY THE SEA. 

A wash of carmine, a cloud of pearl, 

And a sunset sky so bright : 

A restless sea, a qveer old house. 

And, “Ships that pass in the night. ” 

After the old gentleman had bought the property of 
Miriam he was in high spirits. As a man of experience, he 
foresaw for Sandreve, as a summer resort, remarkable 
financial changes that Miriam would never have dreamed 
of. In the first brief view he had of it, looking it over, 
with all its solidity of structure, as well as wild beauty of 
location, he thought what a capital place to bring his 
family, with their grandchildren, for the strengthening 
and invigorating breath of the salt sea air, every long, 
happy summer. His was the finest residence in the ham- 
let; and even with booming, no house that went up in 
the rush and excitement that followed, would have such 
a structure, location, or historical romance, as this, his 
lucky purchase. For himself he never cared a fig for the 
rumor it had of being haunted, but womenfolks, he said, 
were more or less ^^squeamish/’ and it would never do to 
take them there until the mystery had been solved. Al- 
though it had cost him a large sum of money, yet he would 
not have parted with it now for twice what he paid. So 
he began immediate preparations for making the house 
habitable and the grounds beautiful. Competent workmen 


188 The Old House by the Sea. 

were employed. The smugglers’ underground entrance was 
demolished entirely, and the place filled in and made 
level with the surroundings. The rusty iron door was re- 
moved and a solid stone wall filled its place, walling in 
outer and eternal darkness and oblivion the mysterious 
narrow passage, and its unknown and intended use. The 
groaning door hinges were thoroughly oiled, the long neg- 
lected flower garden was cleared of weeds and bram- 
bles, the terraced mounds restored; choice roses trained 
once more in their trellises, and a modern and beautiful 
arbor rose on the very site of the old ruin that had crum- 
bled to dust. Then the old mansion was cleansed and 
ventilated, from garret to cellar; all the ancient pieces of 
furniture that could be found about the house, represent- 
ing that remote period, were sacredly placed in the large 
room facing the sea, and kept as a room of state. 

All the grand rooms were again sumptuously furnished 
for immediate use, the softest carpets covered the tiled 
floors, and a marvel of fleecy lace webs were wafted back 
from the broad windows by the cool morning breeze. The 
richest and most delicate hued draperies once more hung 
airily in door and alcove embrasure, and the daintiest 
creations, both for adornment and use, were there, with- 
out regard to expense. Then, when this fairylike change 
was effected, the delighted family deserted their heated 
city home and blistering pavements, for this city by the 
sea with its salt-laden breeze. Soon after his arrival 
the new owner invited a few prominent business men down 
to see his lueky purchase, and all were charmed with the 
rare beauty of scenery and location ; then, quietly, Sandreve 
began to boom. Speculators and wealthy capitalists, hear- 
ing of the wonderful possibilities in that direction, visited 
the place out of curiosity — but incredulous as they came, 
they left their hoarded funds in building lots, that rep- 
resented so much cash. 

City visitors began to come to Sandreve ; the little inn 
was full to overflowing; the hospitable people at the old 
house took a few, temporarily, until further accommoda- 
tions could be provided. The demand was great for build- 
ing sites everywhere; then began a hoopi that was un^ 


189 


The Old House by the Sea. 

precedented in the annals of booming. A large and com- 
modious hotel went up, and was immediately tilled; chil- 
dren played on the sands with their tiny pails and shovels 
from morn till night, and splendidly dressed ladies prom- 
enaded, or sat in groups, or apart, enjoying themselves in 
their own individual manner. The simple inhabitants 
were astonished ; never in all their quiet lives had they seen 
so many people, or so much bustle and activity. Many a 
poor man sold his little hut and bit of dooryard near the 
shore, for a price that to him, was fabulous, and went else- 
where. Every day the two big stages emptied their loads 
of living freight on the platform, and an observer would 
have wondered where so many people came from. 

Beautiful, solidly built houses dotted the near surround- 
ing country, while the seacoast was thickly lined with cot- 
tages to rent, or to sell, at enormous prices. Streets were 
laid out, sidewalks put down, promenades and convenient 
seats, in all directions. Then came the demand for a rail- 
road; the old-time stage coaches were too slow to satisfy 
the ever increasing influx of summer visitors, who repre- 
sented the wealth, beauty, and distinguished tone of the 
large city centers. A spirited railroad meeting was held, 
and very soon a squad of laborers were at work, beginning 
at the rustic stage station, used for taking passengers from 
that point sixteen miles to Sandreve. As fast as strong, 
willing hands, energetic push, and able supervision could 
rush it, the work was accomplished, and speedily the new 
rails, that led to the now bustling, crowded ocean resort, 
w^ere glittering in the sunlight. Then a large and sub- 
stantial depot was erected ; and oh ! the intense excitement 
of the hour, when, with many a puff and snort and blow, 
and ringing of bells, as though aware of its great impor- 
tance, the ponderous engine steamed into the new station 
for the first time, and stood there resplendent and quiet. 
After that, the crowd was larger than before, and an im- 
perative demand came for greater and more suitable ac- 
commodations. Another large and magnificent hotel soon 
rose in its fair proportions, on a slight eminence, together 
with boarding-houses innumerable, and pavilions with their 
Jong, cool, shady awnings. These were followed by bath 


190 The Old House by the Sea. 

houses, cool springs, and shaded arbors, while yachts and 
sail-boats dotted the lovely v/ateirs of the harbor. Not a 
fisher family could be found near its busy domains, so po- 
tent was the magic influence of cash against the bit of a 
cottage and the ground surrounding it, right in the midst 
of its busy center; the quaint little Swiss inn, and its 
owners, still lived and thrived on the same spot, reaping 
in the golden 'showers that came their way. Among the 
living tide attracted to the place, were many eminent 
artists ; superb sketches and paintings, from all parts 
of interest around the now famous resort, were carried 
away by their happy possessors, but the ones most prized 
were the delightful delineations of the queer old house, 
around which seemed to center absorbing interest and never- 
abating curiosity. While this phenomenal wave of pros- 
perity and pleasure was at its height the purchaser of 
Miriam’s property conceived the idea of inviting her to 
Sandreve ; and one day Mr. Hardwick received a note from 
him, inquiring the address of Miss Percival. 

After some delay an answer reached him with the re- 
quired address of the young lady. In due time a letter 
reached Miriam in her lovely home, partially describing 
the marvelous changes that had taken place there, and 
urgently inviting her out as a guest to his house. Of 
course she ran immediately to Ernest’s cool study, with 
the news. ^^Suppose we do go, before the summer is over, 
Ernest ?” she said, laying her soft hand on his arm. 

He turned around from his desk, on which lay the notes 
of his unfinished sermon: '^And does my little wife think 
I can leave my parish without any more notice than this ?” 

^^You are entitled to a short vacation this summer,” 
she said, ^^and we promised Aunt Pam and Ralph we would 
come out, and Sandreve is not such a great distance from 
there, and I think we might arrange matters to go. I 
would so much like to see the desolate old place again, 
since such great changes have Ijeen wrought there.” 

"'Well, little helpmeet, your word is law to me,” he 
said, with a fond smile, "and I presume we will have to 
go.” Then she gave him what Ralph would have desig- 
nated as a "globe encircling hug, and a near explosion of 


191 


The Old House by the Sea. 

dynamite/’ and he said, run away, dear, and let 

me finish my sermon.” But in the. evening, as they sat 
in their lovely, vine-covered arbor, her favorite resort with 
either book or sewing, while dear old Hero lay at her 
feet, she gave him a charming description of Sandreve, as 
she saw it first and last, and the gloomy, ruined desolation 
of the old gray pile, when it came into her possession, and 
finally its purchase by the writer of the letter. She had 
aroused his interest, and he declared with enthusiasm: 
‘^Certainly, we will go! I want to see the famous place 
myself, now, since you have told me so much about it ; and 
we will make some slightly different arrangements from 
our previous plan, and start next week.” 

^^Oh! I am so pleased, Ernest. I do so yearn to go 
out to the farm and see all the dear ones, and afterwards to 
Sandreve.” 

Long they sat there in the quiet, peaceful twilight, ma- 
turing and perfecting their plans for the coming week, 
and when they arose and went to the house all but a few 
minor details had been settled. Ernest was not intended 
by nature to be a drone in the ever restless hive of human- 
ity ; and though his wife’s inherited wealth had made labor 
no longer a necessity, yet he could not sit idly down in 
ease and luxury, when there was so much poverty and 
hunger, distress, wickedness and misery, all around him, 
waiting for the Voice that touches and the Hand that heals. 
His large salary he devoted almost entirely to needed chari- 
ties, given personally with his own hands where it was 
needed most. Miriam’s sweet, responsive nature, too, had 
met with the great change. She could not see Ernest’s 
spiritual example without its effect on herself. And so, 
lowly at his feet, in the peaceful quietness of her luxurious 
home, with his dear hands on her bowed head, she learned 
the great truths, and accepted them in all their thrilling 
earnestness, and yielded her young, pure heart willingly 
to the Saviour’s love and His divine service. Then every 
lingering shadow was removed from the clergyman’s life, 
and with a soul full to overflowing, with her soft hand 
clasped in his, they both knelt, and he gave thanks to the 
Giver of all good things for this most perfect gift of all — a 


192 The Old House by the Sea. 

clergyman’s sincere, Christian wife. Now their lives seemed 
perfect, and their home hallowed, by this spiritual union. 
One cool, delicious morning, when the rising sun was dye- 
ing the east with a gorgeous red, Miriam and Ernest 
stepped off the train at Hallam, and she proposed leaving 
their luggage and walking to the farmhouse. She de- 
clared she would really enjoy the old-time walk over the 
familiar highway, with its grassy road sides, and narrow, 
worn footpaths, and thus they caught them, not long 
after they had left the dreamy land of Nod. Miriam could 
not wait, but ran ahead of Ernest, and bounding into the 
kitchen, astonished Aunt Pam, by throwing her arms 
around her neck, as she was getting the morning meal. 

‘^Why, dearie, where in the wide world did ye cum frum 
60 airly? an’ jes’ in time tu for breakfast. I declare, the 
sight on ye does my heart good !” exclaimed the delighted 
old lady. 

Just then Ernest sauntered in, with: ‘^Yes, and we are 
awful hungry, too, ain’t we, Myra?” 

‘‘Well, my dears, right glad I am to hear ye say that, 
fer ye shell hev the best the house affords, and plenty of 

it.” 

“Where’s the rest of the family?” Miriam asked, as she 
removed her hat. 

“The men folks is out to the barn, I reckon, an’ won’t 
they be surprisin’ glad tu see ye, tho’?” 

Hero acted as happy to get back to the old home as our 
travelers did, and had already gone to the barn to announce 
their arrival, and stuck his cold nose against Uncle Isaac’s 
face as he was milking. 

“Bless the dog!” he exclaimed, “are you here. Hero?” 

“Yes, and his father and mother are here, too,” ex- 
claimed Miriam, as her laughing face came in view. 
“Where’s Ralph, uncle?” 

“Here I am, you little imp,” said that individual, sud- 
denly appearing, and lifting her in his arms. 

“Oh, Ralph! I thought you had stopped swearing,” 
she said, as she laid her curly head on his broad shoulder 
with a sigh of ineffable rest. 

“So I have — swore off, like Rip Van Winkle, to com- 


The Old House by the Sea. 193 

mence again — so don’t count this time. But when did you 
come, you small girl?” 

‘^Just this minute — walked up from the depot, us three 
people,” pointing to Hero, as they all started to the house, 
Uncle Isaac slightly preceding them with the foaming pail 
of yellow milk, and Miriam with her little hand clasped 
in the warm grasp of Cousin Ealph, following after, where 
a generous breakfast awaited them. 


The Old House by the Sea. 


194 


CHAPTEE XXV. 

CONCLUSION'. 

The old farm was always a dream of content and peace 
to Miriam. She loved its solemn, peaceful stillness, the 
eternal quarreling and contradicting of the katydids in 
the orchard trees at night, and far across the distant 
marshlands the faint, echoing cry of the whip-poor-wills. 
From early childhood she had heard the mournful, brood- 
ing cry of the robin in the old pear tree by her bedroom 
window, as she hovered her little ones to sleep in their 
warm nest, and closed Miriam’s drowsy eyes to slumber 
also, and its blithe, cheery, glad notes, as they awakened 
her in the early hours of dawn. 

All these quaint homely sounds were suggestive of the 
serene Christian hearts that had dwelt among them so 
many long years. 

Although Miriam had lost none of her merry, mis- 
chief loving spirits, held the same tantalizing bickerings 
with Ealph, still convulsed him with her keen wit and ever 
ready retorts, and loved them all just the same as ever, yet 
they noticed an indefinable change in her sometimes grave 
manner, and wondered at it. And when Ernest told them 
one day that the change was in his darling’s heart and 
deeper, earnest purpose of life, dedicated to the One he 
was humbly trying to serve. Aunt Pam wiped the happy 
tears of thankfulness from her eyes, and Uncle Isaac ex- 
claimed ; ‘Traise the Lord !” And, later on, when Ealph, 


Conclusion. 


195 


who wanted to know more about this great change and 
its effect upon her, suddenly asked her one day, in one of 
their quiet, confidential visits, if she was any happier, she 
answered : ^^Happy ! Ealph, I was never so happy in all my 
life.” Then, resting her dark, graceful head on his knee 
again, as he remembered with a pang, she used to do, she 
simply and unaffectedly told him all about it. 

“I am not changed to any one, or anything, Ealph. 
This world is just as beautiful to me as it ever was, and 
I love every one just the same as ever. I am only simply 
trying to do right every day, just as near as I can.” 

^^When did my dear little cousin ever do anything wrong, 
I should like to know?” Ealph answered, smoothing the 
wavy hair. 

‘^Oh, you dear old imbecile, you probably wouldn’t know, 
if I told you,” she answered, gaily springing to her feet. 
‘^You know it is hard for a person in his second childhood 
to understand anything.” To which he retorted that he 
was not half as old as the immaculate lawyer. 

A number of happy days were spent at the farmhouse, 
and then they took their long contemplated trip to San- 
dreve. Arriving at the little country station, where she 
used to take the rattling, jolting old stage, she could 
scarcely believe that the resplendent new engine, standing 
on that unfamiliar track, would really take her over the 
old, grass grown, tree-lined road, to the obscure fisher ham- 
let. How strange it seemed, to enter and be seated on 
those new crimson cushions, instead of the tattered, faded 
appendages of the ancient vehicle of yore. But the wildest 
dream of an unreal and fevered imagination could never 
have conjured up the enchanting picture of transformation, 
into which poor, j)overty-stricken, barren Sandreve, and its 
ignorant, superstitious people had been, as by magic, trans- 
ported. She looked around dazed and bewildered 
when she stepped from the train and a sleek looking cab- 
man touched his hat and said respectfully: ‘^Cab, miss, 
to the nearest hotel, the ^Ocean House’?” Hot a land- 
mark could she see or recognize, or even say, stood here 
once before.” The confusion and bustle of arrivals, the 
whistle of engine and clang of bells, the crowds, the prome- 


196 The Old House by the Sea. 

nading of beautiful women, the laughter and shouts of 
children, where once quietness and obscurity, ignorance and 
apathy, and worse still, laziness, had reigned supreme ! It 
is no wonder she stood spellbound and silent, looking at 
the strange and shifting panorama, until Ernest, taking 
her arm, suggested going to some hotel. 

Then she said absently: ^^Yes, but let us go to the little 
inn where I used to stop when I was here before.” 

They did not find it easily. The queer old relic, with 
its curious porticos and many angles, had been so built 
up around, in the mass of modem structures, that it was 
nearly hidden. But the same weather-beaten sign still 
swung in the morning breeze, and the old couple knew 
and warmly welcomed Miriam and Ernest, as they entered, 
making a low obeisance, as they recognized by his garb he 
was a clergyman. 

‘^Kight welcome ye are, my dear, to the house and every- 
thing in it, on account o^ your cornin’ to us, ’stead o’ to 
some o’ our richer neighbors,” her hostess said. 

And Miriam never forgot her entertainment there, 
either. Everything was sweetened and leavened with kind- 
ness and hospitality during their stay. They went up to 
the old house, and walked quietly through the tastefully 
kept grounds, now so thoroughly changed, and sat down 
in the grand new structure, called an arbor, nearly cov- 
ered with vines. Then they followed the white sand walks, 
amid the survival of the old-time roses, on either side, to 
the overhanging cliff, down which Miriam pointed out to 
Ernest the identical spot where the strange, spectral look- 
ing ship stood, so dark, and immovable, that moonlight 
night. Eetracing their steps around the house, down the 
slope, until they reached the sea-girt wall, she showed him, 
still there, rusty but intact, the huge iron ring on the other 
side, where the black-robed crew had fastened their craft, 
and laid her little hand on the place where they had filed 
over, one by one, ‘^and here,” said she, the very spot,” 
putting her tiny foot down where the ghosts disappeared 
in the ground. Hero was already attesting to the fact 
by sniffing and pawing at the earth, just as he had before 
recognized the secret door on the other side of the man- 


Conclusion. 


197 


sion, so well known to them both on many another occa- 
sion, for he again went down its steps, whining and wait- 
ing for admittance. 

Although Miriam acknowledged the courtesy and kind- 
ness of the present owner’s cordial invitation, she felt that 
she would rather remember the gorgeous rooms as she 
had seen them last, in their empty, dusty, desolation, re- 
peopled, as she had them in her rich imagination, by their 
old-time occupants, the day she bade them farewell forever ; 
so with a sigh of relief she left the now enchanting spot, 
and they slowly retraced their steps to the inn. These 
two places were all that bore any semblance whatever to 
the little hamlet she had seen for the first time less than 
three years ago. That evening they strolled out on the 
long stretch of white sands, and where she had seen the 
fishermen spreading their nets, or launching their boats 
in the eurly dawn, now hundreds of people were saunter- 
ing around, each absorbed in their own individual thoughts 
and pleasures. Everywhere she went, and in every direc- 
tion she looked, she saw something new, where the march 
of improvement had held undisputed sway. 

Not a landmark was left of the fisher huts and small 
cottages that had once formed a desolate looking village. 
Dancing pavilions, large hotels and grand structures, cov- 
ered the very spots where their squalid habitations had 
been, and where their old woman had stood in the low door- 
ways and gabbled with each other across the yards. They 
were gone — literally swept off the face of the earth — ‘^^and 
the places that knew them once, would know them no more 
forever.’’ It was utterly incomprehensible, and Miriam 
gazed, lost in silent retrospection; only the limitless ex- 
panse of sea, with its never ceasing murmur, and the two 
identical landmarks, were the same ; but Miriam would re- 
tain to the end of life’s journey the two pictures painted on 
the canvas of her memory — Sandreve, past and present. 

^^Do you regret, now, that you sold the old place ?” Ernest 
asked, as he heard her sigh faintly. 

‘‘Eegret?” she answered. ‘^No! I was glad to let it 
go, and I would not have it back at any price.” 

^^Not even to live here ? See the prosperity and fashion, 


198 The Old House by the Sea. 

and the advantage of owning property in this gay sea 
resort, without any of the disadvantages of small, crowded 
rooms, and large bills if you still were mistress of yonder 
gray old pile,’^ he added quizzically. 

“Oh, Ernest ! I could not live here. I would not, even 
if I could. I did not think you were so worldly.^’ 

“My little wife, I did not in the least mean it. All 
this turmoil and confusion, sin and revelry, could never 
please me, either. I shall be glad to leave it and go back 
to our quiet, peaceful home once more.^^ 

“Yes, so will assented Miriam. “Let us go to-mor- 
row morning. I never want to see tliis place again. I am 
tired of it already.” 

“We will leave in the morning, dear. I shall be pleased 
to shake the dust off my shoes, also.” 

And at an early hour, thanking their host and hostess 
for all the kind attentions given them, they bade them 
farewell, and took their seats in the waiting train, that was 
soon in motion, leaving new Sandreve behind them for- 
ever. They had arranged that when they returned they 
would take the inmates of the old farmhouse with them 
to their distant home, as Miriam so ardently wished. The 
old people had not positively promised, but there was an 
implied understanding to that effect, and Miriam intended 
to strenuously carry her point, for that was the only way 
she would ever get them to take the journey. Ralph was 
young, and she hoped she could easily persuade him to 
leave the farm in able hands for a few weeks. So the 
subject was duly broached soon after their arrival, and 
all the excuses met with strong, overruling objections. 

“Why, dearie, I ain’t got nothin’ fitten tu wear in sech a 
big city and sech high company as you hev. My old al- 
packer, you know, is the second best I hev, and that is sort 
o’ rusty, an’ t’other one, the dress I had when you got 
married, sakes’ alive, it’s so tight I kin skacely git in it 
now. The city dressmaker what made it, fitted it so orful 
tight then, ’at I couldn’t draw a long breath, an’ now I 
kain’t even hook it when I git it on ; so you see it’s onpos- 
sible, when I h’ain’t nothin’ tu wear.” 

“Well; aunty, wear your old alpaca, and we will get 


Conclusion. 


199 


some new things after you get there, and they shall not be 
made too tight, either,” she added, with a twinkle in her 
eye. “It’s not your clothes or your fine appearance I care 
for, but it is your dear self and Uncle Isaac I want 
there.” 

“Wall, Isaac’s clus ain’t any the best fer this time o’ 
year, nuther. Ye see, we wuz a-layin’ out tu git a lot o’ 
things cornin’ Christmas, fer then, we thought, like ez 
not we would go ’long o’ Ealph, same ez we promised when 
ye wuz here afore, an’ I reckon thet’s the way it’ll hev tu 
be done; an’ then it’s a bad time o’ year tu leave, when 
thar’s so much tu be dun on the farm. We couldn’t go 
nohow — not now.” 

“Well, aunty, will you and uncle surely come out 
Christmas, if we let you off now? I did so hope to take 
you back with us.” 

“Yes, dear child, if the good Lord is willin’, an’ spares 
both our lives, we will surely come out fust o’ December, 
an’ stay till arter New Year’s, if that will pacify ye.” 

“It will have to, I suppose,” said Miriam ruefully, “but 
you don’t know how disappointed I am.” 

“Why don’t ye tackle Ealph, an’ try ter git him tu go?” 
suggested the dear old lady, comfortingly. “He could ez 
well ez not, ef he wuz a mind ter think so. Fer the hired 
man an’ yer uncle could git in the rest o’ the farm stuff, 
an’ everything would go right along jes’ ez ef he wuz 
here.” 

“Well, aunty, I will ^tackle’ him, as you say, and then 
you tell him just as you have told me, and together per- 
haps we will prevail on him to go.” 

“I will, child. I will du all I kin tu help ye along.” 

So the “tackling” was commenced in good earnest on I 
poor, unsuspecting Ealph, at the first opportunity, and so 
successfully were his objections met, with a defense of 
abuttals, of Miriam, Ernest, and his mother, that the 
poor fellow sank down in the big armchair and helplessly 
raised his hands in mock bewilderment, and asked hum- 
bly: 

“Dear friends, where am I?” 

“In your second childhood, you dear old imbecile,” 


200 


The Old House by the Sea. 

promptly answered Miriam, throwing her arms aronnd his 
neck and kissing him, to the intense amusement of Ernest. 

I have any friends here, I appeal to them to pro- 
tect me from — from ” 

^^You haven’t a friend on earth,” she interrupted, laugh- ^ 
ing, ^^and we are going to take 3^ou home with us. So now 
get on your duds.” 

As he could no longer find a sensible weapon with which 
to parry their superior numbers he surrendered grace- 
fully, to the great joy of Miriam and the extreme grati- 
fication of Ernest, who loved the noble, handsome fellow 
like a brother, and of whom he once said to his wife : 
is a high honor to hold him as a friend, and a compliment 
to have him even as an enemy, for in that he would be mag- 
nanimous and generous.” Once, as he was making his 
preparations, he slyly intimated he ^^hadn’t any clus fitten 
to wear,” and Miriam immediately suggested his mother’s 
old black ^^alpacker” if he wouldn’t “sile it.” Then he 
vaguely wondered if he would ever find his way back from 
that fabulous place they were taking him. And Miriam 
assured him, that knowing his peculiar affliction, imbecility, 
he would probably never return at all; and anyway, she 
did not think it safe for him to be ^^prowling” around the 
country alone at his time of life. 

‘^Little Coz,” said Ealph, “you will never be anything 
but a dear, precious little girl.” 

“God grant she never will be,” said Ernest solemnly; 
“with her heart as crystal pure as it is now, and her soul 
as white as the angels, she is the light of my life, the 
light of my home, the moving inspiration of my every good 
work on earth, and it’s her little hand that quietly leads me 
up yonder.” 

Ealph’s head unconsciously bowed, and though he made 
no audible answer, in his great honest heart he silently 
said, “Amen.” And now, in their prosperity and happi- 
ness we will leave them there, in their lovely home, which 
Ealph beheld in its rare perfection once before. We will 
leave these three eminently conspicuous characters, in the 
morning of their beautiful lives, in the morning of their 
crowning manhood and exquisite young womanhood^ the 


Conclusion. 


201 


two- walking loyally hand in hand, up the steep mountain 
side, to the zenith of its sunburst of splendor and useful- 
ness ; beckoning the other one to follow them, by the power 
of example, and faith, and living witness, at last, the one 
whom they all love so dearly — tender, true Cousin Ealph. 
So, also, will we bid good-by, to the dear inmates of the 
farmhouse. Many, many years have they dwelt together 
in peace and harmony, helping each other over the ills and 
misfortunes of life, each cheering the other when sad, and 
binding each other’s wounds; wiping away the tears of 
affliction when they flowed, and rejoicing when the light 
of happiness beamed again. Their sun has long ago set 
behind the purple hills, but the obscuring cloud is pearl 
and gold. In their peaceful, placid old age they are only 
waiting till the summons comes, that will find them ^Vith 
the wedding garment on” and ready, 


Only waiting, till the sunlight 
Has a little longer grown. 

Only waiting till the shadow, 

From the last day’s beam has flown.” 


Fervently, morn and evening they thank God for their 
best earthly blessing — staunch and faithful Ralph. He 
will stay with them while they live, and his gentle, tender 
hands will close their eyes in death, and fold their old- 
time worn hands, and reverently lay them away in peace 
and rest. They steadfastly believe in the light of prayer 
and precept, that he, too, will not be content, but will fol- 
low after them, in the cleansing blood of the Divine Re- 
deemer. 

And now, as the golden sunshine slants through the 
kitchen window and lights up the white cap, and happy, ' 
wrinkled face of Aunt Pam, as she sits there talking to 
Uncle Isaac, and then rests, warm and bright, across the 
wide porch floor, where the morning-glories still rustle and 
swing in the careless breeze we will take one more look, 
and say farewell. So also will we say farewell to the once 
obscure little fisher hamlet. How at the height of its 


202 


The Old House by the Sea. 

grandeur, its beauty, its unparalleled prosperity, we will 
leave dear old Sandreve forever. We have seen it in 
its desolation, its woe, and its utter poverty, and we have 
beheld it in its flaunting pride, the central object of an 
admiring world, the pet resort of the wealthiest, the best, 
the most intellectual and distinguished, as well as of 
frivolity, fashion and thoughtless pleasure-seekers every- 
where. 

Many a sweet romance began in the brilliantly lighted 
ball-room, with its intoxicating perfume and ravishing 
music, or out on the soft, moonlit beach, while the 
yielding sands gave back no echo of the slow footsteps of 
the ones absorbed in unfolding the same sweet, old story, 
ever new, ever delicious to the listening ear. Many a 
romance thus begun ended happily, in its union of happy 
homes and loving hearts; w^hile others, alas, under just 
as pleasing auspices, with just as alluring promises of un- 
swerving fidelity, truth, honor and love forever, which the 
false tongue had no intention of performing, terminated 
in woe, and the pure white lives were wrecked in the whirl- 
pool of shame, misery and death. Sometimes the tender 
heart was broken and the young life went out on those 
same yielding, shifting sands, killed — God pity her! — ^by 
the treachery, desertion and unprincipled deceit, believed 
in and trusted, but found utterly false, when too late. 
Innocence jostles against sin, mirth and laughter, and 
revelry against sorrow, and sadness, and despair, where 
the canker worm, though hidden, eats out the heart of 
the lily’s bud and blossom. And thus we will leave it, with 
its bloom and flower, its sunshine and shadow, its broken 
hearts and sunny hopes, its joyous laughter and moans of 
heartache, its flashing lights and dense gloom, its bustle 
and buzz and noise, its ringing bells and sounds of traffic, 
its blue-gray sky and opalescent sea, its flap of wings and 
scream of gull, its ever continuous moan, moan, and lap, 
lap of wave on the sandy beach, or against the old gray wall 
at the foot of the cliff, and, while the silvery moonlight 
rests like a calm benediction on the now sleeping city, and 
lights up turret and window of the queer old house on the 
eternal rocks above^ standing out so sharply against the 


Conclusion. 


203 


'\ 

flooding midnight sky, we will bid farewell forever to 
Sandreve past and present, with all its memories bitter 
and sweet, as well as to ^^The Old House by the Sea/^ 

“A midnight sky, a moonlit sea. 

And a towering cliff so white : 

A silent house, — low moaning waves 
And — ‘Ships that pass in the night.’ ” 







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